March of the God
by TightropeDancing
Summary: Fifteen years after Gash Bell had won the battle for King of the Makai, both humans and mamono have begun to disappear, starting with Kiyomaro's own daughter.
1. Naked Shuffle

**March of the God**

**Chapter One: Naked Shuffle**

Your friendly internet stalker is back with a crappy new story! I must say I have had fun writing this so far, but it really isn't my usual humorous idiocy. I got bored on an airplane when I created this so… yeah. WAIT! DON'T LEAVE!

Anywaaays, there are going to be about 27 chapters in this, in fact I've got it all planned out.

This story switches between points of view often. It might be first. It might be third person. Of course this was inspired by the Boogiepop novels. (I am not, however, going to go out of chronological order.) There will be several obscure references to those awesomeful (word?) novels in this story. The most confusing one that I have at this point is a mention of 'Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg', which is simply a piece of classical music Boogiepop whistles at times. Someone needs to shoot me for being a Boogiepop geek.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Konjiki no Gash Bell, or anything else I may mention in this story. I own all the OCs, though.

* * *

The girl's eyes were rolled into the back of her head, and her body was limp, lying on the dead grass. The girl did not move, nor did she seem to breathe.

Naoko Takamine would seem quite dead to any onlookers who would chance to be in the middle of the Siberian wasteland, but she was not dead. Instead of dead, Naoko Takamine was the next best thing. She was not breathing. She had not been doing so for quite a while now, which was a little under a month. Neither had the girl eaten in this time, but, despite all logic, Naoko Takamine was alive, her life itself trapped within her due to magic, which created an idleness of the body. In this idleness, the body simply shut off without being quite dead. If Naoko Takamine had indeed been dead, she would no longer be useful to the mamono who had kidnapped her.

Naoko Takamine was your ordinary ten-year-old Japanese girl. Aside from Naoko's mother being a pop-star, she led a regular life. It was hard to imagine what a 4,029 year old demon would want with anyone like Naoko Takamine.

It happened to be nine-seventeen at night at that time in the Siberian wasteland. The demon, who had abducted the girl, and force fed her the potion that caused the state of idleness had gone to Siberia with Naoko Takamine crammed into a rather large coat-bag. She had acquired several bumps and bruises from being dragged behind the demon, and her out-of-service lungs were more than likely filled with water from when the mamono had to swim from Japan to get to mainland Asia. The rest of the demon's journey, he either hitchhiked or traveled on foot, always dragging that conspicuous coat-bag alongside him.

At nine eighteen, the demon straightened out Naoko Takamine's limbs out and laid her on her back, as it was such a nicer, more respectable position than sprawled on the ground as if she had just been dumped from a bag, which she actually had been.

So many, thousands of years, although to the mamono it didn't seem like such a long time, after his book had been burnt in one of the once-a-millennia battles, the demon was setting his plan for ascension the throne of the Makai into motion. Naoko Takamine could read his spellbook. He had asked and tested her personally before knocking her out and putting her into the coat-bag, which had been stolen from a Laundromat near the Takamine residence. She would play a big role in his plan.

The mamono took a book, white with a slight blue tint to it; from inside the darkly-colored robes he was wearing, and tossed it at the girl. Naoko Takamine did not react to this, though the corner of the book's hard binding struck her forehead before falling beside her head.

As nine nineteen came around, the demon began to chant softly, and the book he had stolen so long ago began to glow. The illumination spread to the intricate runes cut into the lawn, until the entire field was shining. When it stopped doing so, the front of the girl and the book began to crack, and a light of a different sort than that the field had emitted came from the breaks. The glow illuminated the feild, swallowing it up in an unimanginable brightness.

When all the light was gone, the feild remained the same, but all the markings cut into the lawn had vanished. The mamono, whose size had decreased to that of a ten-year-old girl's, collapsed onto the ground, laughing faintly and femininely as the 'shells' of Naoko Takamine and the book crumbled into dust, which was carried off in the wind.

The first step of the demon's plan had succeeded.

* * *

I guess I thought I was going crazy. That made me delusional, in the least, I suppose. I guess I also suppose that to this day, I don't know what to think of Babylon Angel. I'm really not so sure of anything.

Even if I wasn't going nuts, I still was a pretty screwed-up kid. Firstly, due to taunting about an almost non-existent weight problem by my parents, I had begun to throw up after every few meals. I really didn't consider myself fat at all, but couldn't bring myself to break my nasty habit, though I did think I smelled like vomit. No matter how many times I brushed my teeth, washed my hands and showered, I couldn't get rid of that stench. I always kept at least two bottles of cologne or perfume on me at all times, so no one else could smell. I knew that my behavior was strange, but that never stopped me.

I also have to admit that I'd been thinking about killing myself at that point in my life. My faults were not funny, but my parents did not seem to think the same thing. I was being pushed and pushed... I wanted them to shut up; I wanted my parents to leave me alone. I always considered sleeping to be a very nice way to pass my time. Death was probably like a very long sleep, right? Even at the time, I was ashamed of thinking about things like that. But slitting my wrists or jumping off the top of a building or something like that would more than likely hurt, so I didn't. Besides, I believe in God. Always have, always will. I really don't want to go to hell, but that's just me.

I was stupid. I was fat. I wasn't any good at sports. I lost my temper easily. My long hair wasn't ever combed properly. At times, I had pimples. I forgot small details easily. I was both physically and emotionally weak. I wasn't very good with my hands, and had no extraordinary talents. My grades were unacceptable.

All these things either put my parents into hysterics, or got me in huge trouble.

It was driving me mad.

My life really didn't suck all that much. Aside from having a very stupid name, which would be Aston Martin (yes, like the car), I'm really just a normal kid. Well, the bulimia thing, but that was little, right?

I was a thirteen-year-old girl with a rather ugly shade of auburn hair and rather dull grey eyes. My music tastes were somewhat out of date (ever heard of Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg? I thought not.), and my fashion sense sucked. I would up and start crying for no reason. I never stuck with anything, and didn't have much of a personality.

Anyhow, my life changed for the more interesting one night, past my bedtime, while I was sitting outside my house, crying my eyes out because I was a brat, with only a can of Pepsi for comfort. It was summer, too warm for the long cotton shirt and pale blue military style vest I wore. I really didn't care about how warm I was; my face was already hot with the tears of an emotionally weak little girl.

I couldn't shake the smell of vomit from my person, no matter how much perfume I put on. Because I'm picky with food, I hadn't even eaten a dinner to throw up… so why?

"You do know I could hear you crying three yards down, right?"

Immediately, I made an attempt to choke back my sobbing, which actually succeeded. My face was still red.

I looked up at the speaker, who was higher up than I had imagined, and was in fact sitting, well, squatting on the garden fence. That speaker was an Asian girl, about nine or ten, with short brunette hair. Her long bangs parted above her left eye, and on the same side, a small braid hung just in front of her left ear. And, yet again, on the left side, a strange symbol, like either a dilapidated heart or a skewed the letter B, marked her cheek.

I continued to stare at her in observance as her long white skirt and the collar of her white polo shirt ruffled just slightly in the wind. She balanced perfectly on the fence, carrying a pale pink book. I wasn't too surprised by her sudden appearance because I thought I was going crazy. Either that, or I had fallen asleep, but I hadn't really been tired.

"Do you want a vacation?" the girl asked, smiling. She spoke in a language I had never heard before, yet I could understand perfectly. "I'm sure your crying was caused by something in this environment." She paused a moment. "I know humans have been warned against going with strange people they meet on their fences, so this indeed may be a bit risky, but I am asking you," the girl paused again and swallowed, "Do you want out of here?"

"And you are?" I asked the girl, even if I had decided she wasn't at all real. I'd completely decided on going, figuring since it was my imagination, it couldn't do anything that wasn't already floating around in my head. Still, following some chick you found sitting on your fence to God knows where is pretty damn stupid.

"_Moi_?" she asked. It was clearly in French. Everyone knows '_moi_' is French.

"I am Babylon Angel," she proclaimed, proudly. "I will need the help of you and a few special others to carry out my plan!" It sounded like she was doing a cold reading off of a script. "And, my plan," Babylon Angel continued, "Is secret for now! The only thing I'm telling you is that it includes luring out and killing someone!" She laughed girlishly and rather innocently for one who spoke of killing somebody.

Not very detailed, was that plan of hers…?

"Well, who're you?" she asked, leaning forward just slightly, maintaining perfect balance.

"Aston." I didn't give her my last name. She'd probably laugh at me.

"Well, Aston," she said, "How about it? That is," she paused, "if you can read this book." She dropped her pink book in front of me. "First page!"

After scanning the text on the page, I nodded to her. "Yeah, I can." I had never seen the language, yet I could read that one word. _Zerukeru_.

The rest of the book, however, was filled with strange symbols I couldn't make sense of to save my life. Not a single character seemed to bear any sort of semblance to the ones of the first word.

The girl whistled an abstract tune, composed entirely of three or four different pitches of whistling. It had no musical sense to it whatsoever. When Babylon Angel stopped, she said, "So, are you ready?"

"What if I resist?" I asked her, looking up from the pink book.

"Why, I'll abduct you, and when I get back to my _super-special evil lair _with you, I'll mess with your mind, of course!" she exclaimed, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You could tell she wasn't lying. But then again, I thought I was imagining her. She could do what I thought she could, including take me away from that house.

"Okay, okay." I said, shrugging. "Let me go get my shoes."

"I'm sure we have more shoes," she said, smiling, wiggling her own bare toes. "We'll be there a few minutes after we start out."

"Well, sure. Where are we going, anyways?" I asked the figment of my imagination that was standing on the fence in front of me.

"I think it's called Siberia," Babylon Angel answered. "Now… I we need to find a place where I can get a running start…" Babylon Angel trailed off.

Siberia. Wow. Just… wow.

"Oh, hey, Aston," Babylon Angel asked, jumping off the fence and turning her back towards me, "I'd prefer to be referred to as male, okay? I know the body is female, but I was born a guy! Ah, I'm going to fix this… eventually!" _He_ whispered something under _his_ breath, and a knife formed in _his_ hand out of nowhere, and slashed something into the fence.

"Forget about my gender! …If you're wondering, I'm leaving a mark," he explained, motioning towards the cut in the fence, which looked a great deal like the symbol on his cheek. "I want to make sure the King of the Makai knows that all the disappearances are related to me. Heck, I burnt the symbol on the King's brother's back when I attacked and coma'd him… and abducted his child. Not for any creepy reason, though!

"Basically, I want to be traced. I've already told my whereabouts to someone who the King is acquainted with… so it really shouldn't take too long for him to come out of the protection of the Makai once I really get going… I must have lost you, haven't I?" Babylon Angel said, after I yawned slightly, getting tired.

"Oh, it's fine," I said, stretching and getting up, pink book in hand. "Perfectly so."

Babylon Angel smiled. "Let's go out onto the street. I'm going to need a head start in order to fly quickly."

* * *

The Japanese boy sat with his back to the wall, and lit his cigarette. He was only fourteen, far too young to buy cigarettes. He always managed to get his hands on them by some means, though.

He disposed of his butts, boxes and used up lighters at the local gas station, inside of a plastic bag. He brushed his teeth four times a day, and used mouthwash frequently so no one could smell it on his breath. The boy had been told smoking was the most honorable form of suicide by a girl he had a strange feeling he was in love with, but outwardly, he disregarded her words.

The boy had considered quitting smoking a few times, because she disapproved of the habit. He never got around to it, however. Maybe if she had lived near him, in the same town, country or continent, he would have quit. But the boy lived a good deal away from the girl he saw mostly as a very close friend. She was in France, he was in Japan.

Today, as he puffed on his cigarette, sitting just outside his house, Sawao Takamine was eavesdropping. Just on the other side of the wall, Kiyomaro Takamine, Sawao's father, had something to talk about with his 'old friend' Gash Bell.

If Sawao had asked, his father would have probably allowed him to sit in, but he didn't want to interrupt the conversation. Besides, he really wanted a smoke, which he could not get with either of his parents around.

Kiyomaro and Gash were probably talking about something related to the disappearance of Sawao's younger sister, Naoko. It had been around a month since Naoko vanished, and after much searching of her room which she had headed up to for the night when she was last seen, the police could only find a strange symbol that bore a semblance to the letter B carved into the wall. They had not turned up any signs of a struggle between Naoko and the kidnapper. Her bed was made perfectly, the pillows arranged in the perfect fashion Naoko put them in when they were not being used, so it was highly, highly unlikely she had been taken while asleep. There was no trail the kidnapper could have taken. The window had been open, but Naoko's room was on the third story of the rather large house, and there were no footholds the escapee could have used, or, for that matter, any sort of footprint in the dirt below the window. The kidnapper could not have gone through the house, seeing as he would have to pass the bedrooms of Sawao, his parents and his grandmother to get to the door, and at least one of them would have heard or seen something. In the same way, it was impossible for her to run away. It was a total mystery where the ten-year-old had gone.

The b-like symbol, which had been seen in several kidnapping cases worldwide after Naoko's disappearance, had no clear origin. Most people theorized it belonged to some sort of cult who abducted people for a type of ritual or something of the sort.

It had been hard on the Takamine family, loosing Naoko. What made it worse was that Sawao's mother was a celebrity, a pop star, to be exact (even though she was almost thirty), and the tabloids of course were all over the story. Sawao had complained to his friends at school that the press was 'one huge pain in the ass.' One of these friends, Misuzu Mizuno, had joked that the paparazzi and stalker-type journalists might be watching and listening in on him, ready to make 'SCANDAL: Megumi Takamine(Oumi)'s Son is Fourteen, and Says Ass like a Normal Kid!' a headline for some magazine circulating out there.

Sawao knew Misuzu had a crush on him. He didn't particularly care for her in that fashion, she was simply one of his better friends amongst the crowd that followed the son of the pop star around. (Coincidentally, Misuzu's guardian, a second cousin of hers, Suzume Mizuno, had a crush on Kiyomaro while they were in school together. Misuzu had a feeling her 'Aunt Suzume' still did have a thing for the man.)

And a pain in the ass the tabloids were.

The tabloids had really gotten carried away with Naoko's disappearance, almost more so than they did when Sawao's parents, Megumi and Kiyomaro, had (after much, much, much etc. talking) decided to get married at the age of fourteen. They realized it was unbelievably young. (It also gave Kiyomaro a chance to use his genius, hurry up and finish his schooling by skipping several grades, finally getting his J.D. degree from Tokyo University at age eighteen. This earned him a few worldwide newspaper headlines, needless to say.)

Sawao was born when his parents were both fifteen. Naoko was born when they were nineteen. Ten years later, at twenty-nine, Kiyomaro and Megumi were still married and incredibly happy together.

Sawao could hear the chairs moving inside the room, being pulled out from under the table so they could be sat upon.

His father's voice sounded. "It's been about a month, now, huh? Tio's been doing well?"

"Yep, she sure is!" The cheery voice of the Makai's king, Gash Bell, answered Kiyomaro's question. "So, how's Megumi?"

Sawao groaned slightly at this, though it wasn't loud enough to be heard through the wall. The adults small-talked for awhile, but then Kiyomaro stopped it by asking what brought Gash to Ningenkai.

"The last time I was here it was because of Naoko, right?" Suddenly, Gash the king got distracted. "Is that lamp new?"

"Gash!" yelled Kiyomaro, "Stay on topic! It's hard to believe you're twenty one at times…"

Gash laughed at this. "Kiyomaro still thinks of me as a little kid!" he exclaimed to no one in particular, definitely sounding much younger than he really was. "Aaaany-waaay, I was here after Naoko vanished, right?"

"Right," said an agitated-sounding Kiyomaro.

Gash often sent messengers to deliver his notes to and from Kiyomaro. (It was not at all unusual for Sawao to walk downstairs in the morning to see his grandmother, Hana Takamine, serving a mamono breakfast for his work.) Sometimes, Tio, Gash's wife and the Queen of the Makai, would visit. Gash was often too busy to visit for himself. Gash must have heard word of Naoko's disappearance through the messengers, because not even fifteen minutes after one of them left, the King had burst into the living room, shouting and jumping.

"Well," Gash continued, "shortly after then, a total of seventy-nine mamono, and seventy nine books have vanished from the Makai, right under our noses. That number now includes my niece, Rue." The King gulped.

"It's reached seventy-nine? That's six more than the amount totaled in the note you sent me just last week! About your niece, Rue… I—" Kiyomaro started, possibly trying to somehow condole the blonde demon, but was cut off.

From what Sawao could hear, the King of the Makai was shaking slightly as he spoke. "Well, when Rue was taken, Zeon… my brother, well… he apparently caught the kidnapper in the act, and they got in a fight. Well… Zeon got hurt, really badly. We found him covered in bruises, burns and cuts, nearly dead." Gash sighed. "He's in a coma."

Gash and his brother had become much _closer _over the last fifteen years. Gash had even helped Zeon find a girlfriend, who he ended up marrying. Her name was Koruru, and she had pink hair. Rue had pink hair, too.

"You said seventy-nine?" asked Kiyomaro. Sawao figured that his father was now stroking the goatee he had grown over the past fifteen years.

"Mm-hmm."

"Damn, I thought I had something," Kiyomaro cursed.

"Huh? What?"

"Well, I thought that if the number of human and mammon coincided, it could have been the same party taking them. According to the 'another one's gone' messages you've sent, the human and mamono disappearances happen in roughly the same time-frame, the human usually just before the mamono. There's eighty missing humans. Unless you count that idiot from Prague who abducted eight school kids and hid them in his basement for four days."

" Nope, I'm not counting him. Well, the real kidnapper could have just not taken one of the humans yet," Gash said.

"No. The humans generally disappear just before the mamono."

"Well, two mamono were taken back-to-back last week, one of them being Rue. To make up for it, two humans then disappeared back-to-back, too, right?"

"Yeah. The man from Venezuela and the girl from England, only the English girl's case wasn't phoned in until just a few days ago. Her parents thought she had just run away," Kiyomaro said.

"If Teo went missing, Tio and I would go crazy! We wouldn't care how he disappeared! Forget ruling the Makai, I'd look for him myself!" Gash said, citing his son, who had never been to Ningenkai.

"I know… Megumi didn't move away from the phone incase news of Naoko came for days…"

"Ooh, Kiyomaro," said Gash, "I forgot to mention this, but when a demon is abducted, there's a strange mark wherever they last were. We found it burnt into Zeon's back, too! We got an artist to copy the image." There was a crumpling noise in the room, as if Gash was taking a piece of paper from the pockets of his robe.

"Hm. Gash, how long have you had this?" Kiyomaro asked, calmly and coolly, referring to the piece of paper Sawao couldn't see.

"Oh, since just after the first six disappearances," Gash said.

"Dumbass!" Kiyomaro yelled, "Why didn't you show me this sooner! This symbol… is carved into the wall of Naoko's bedroom! It's the only proof we have the cases here in Ningenkai are at all related!"

"So, the disappearances in both Ningenkai and the Makai are caused by the same people?" Gash asked, clueless.

"Yes!" shouted Kiyomaro. "We should start researching immediately!"

"Well," said Gash, "There's good news then! I figured you'd come up with something, so I had Kid ask Nazo Nazo Hakase to let us use his big library in America! Of course he said yes, so I used your phone before I came in here and called everyone I had gotten phone-numbers from to come help us!"

Sawao sensed a storm coming. He always worked up a high phone bill, which his father did not like, so Gash calling long-distance would stack it up more…

"Oh. Who did you call?" Kiyomaro asked.

"Well, I got Wonlei and LiYen to come, and Brago and Sherry, although Brago hit the receiver on me a lot when Sherry told him who was calling… Mr. Sunbeam disappeared in Africa with Elle four years ago, so of course I can't reach him... I really hope they're okay..."

"He got a few photographers that were out there to deliver a letter for him to me. They were in Bloemfontein at the time they sent it to me, but had been on the road across the continent," Kiyomaro said.

"What did the letter say?" Gash asked.

"That the two of them were doing well and had discovered a new species of monkey," Kiyomaro said. "They had the photographers take a picture of them. ...They seem to have taken some fashion tips from Tarzan."

"Oh, that's good then!" Gash said. "I couldn't even get a hold of Folgore… his phone was always busy."

Kiyomaro sighed aloud in relief as Sawao sighed mentally. Good. No Folgore.

"I told everyone to rendezvous here on Saturday," Gash said. "I hope you're fine with that, Kiyomaro!"

Sawao could feel his father's anger boiling from outside. When Kiyomaro did yell at Gash for inviting four people over to his home without permission, the entire neighborhood could hear the yelling. Sawao's cigarette, which was now little more than a butt, fell from his mouth. So… loud…

"I'm fine with that," Kiyomaro answered Gash as the sound of his footfalls indicated that Kiyomaro had left the room.

* * *

Chapter One: End

Ta-da. Over 4,000 words of suck. I hope it wasn't too bad…

Now, review, or… I'll have to come up with a shiny new threat!


	2. Waiting at the Busstop

**March of the God**

**Chapter 2: Waiting at the Bus-stop**

And you're back for another chapter! 

**Warning: Putting down own story comes next**. Why? This really isn't any good, so… yeah. **I really need a self-esteem boost. Does anyone have a goat, a lighter, two candles and a giant balloon full of propane? That always makes me feel all good inside!**

And of course Princess Tutu is a nickname. This is a Gash Bell fanfic laced with (mostly) Boogiepop references, for God's sake!

**Disclaimer:** Konjiki no Gash Bell is not mine. Nothing is, aside from the OCs.

As I've said, the POV changes. The first part in first person is an OC you're just meeting now, and the second is Sawao's. I know this has loads of OCs. Then we move to third person, so that's good for that.

* * *

Me? I'm Vieve Decatour. I'm fourteen and am absolutely average, in absolutely every way. It's kind of boring, sometimes, but hey, I'm happy.

I was born and still live in France. I've never left the country, even to go just across the channel to Britain. The farthest I've been from my home was a trip to visit family that lives just outside of Paris.

I go to a private school out in the countryside. I get decent grades, and I'm pretty popular with the boys. I'm pretty popular, period. A lot of people say I'm nice, at that, but I don't know if I believe them.

I had a boyfriend, in the sense we walked down the halls together and sometimes would go to the movies or buy the other lunch. It was typical middle-school dating; that was all. I never admitted this out loud. I told my boyfriend that I loved him, and he said the same, but it really wasn't true. Sure, I liked him a lot, but I knew that any relationship between sane people at this age was never serious. We broke up because his sister really hates one of my best friends. It got annoying when we came over to his house, you know.

I wanted nothing in my life, perhaps a new scooter at most. The one I had was a piece of junk, and constantly broke down, restricting my travel around town greatly. I couldn't wait for the day when it would refuse to start up, and I could show my parents that my cousin's hand-me-down bike was no longer functional. They'd buy me a new scooter like they promised they would when the old one broke. The world would be perfect, then, if our school uniform didn't include heavy jackets, even in the summertime.

Their hideous maroon color seemed to soak in the heat, making the few days left until summer break seem endless. I couldn't wait for summer; I couldn't wait to go out to the lake to swim, like absolutely everyone else.

Like everyone else, I was normal. My parents were normal. All of my friends were normal. Everyone… they were all normal. All I knew… was normal.

I was normal, normal, normal. At times, I wished I wasn't.

I only knew one person who wasn't normal. Well, I thought she wasn't normal. She didn't seem normal, at least.

She could never be considered attractive by any human being, never. She wasn't ugly, but she just wasn't pretty.

I liked to think I was rather pretty. Rosy cheeks, white-blonde hair, green eyes, and, not to sound arrogant, a cute face. I checked each morning in the mirror to make sure each of these things was still there with me. I took good care of myself to make myself look better, for showmanship reasons, combing my hair at least once every two hours, applying make-up and filing my nails madly. I was always pleased with the turn-out. I never wanted to change the way I looked in general, but I knew that wasn't true of a lot of people.

Maybe she wanted to change the way she looked, but I doubted that. The only proof she had of ever taking care of herself was a clear complexion, painted nails and the fact that she wore some sort of make-up on her cheeks, although it barely made her any less pale. Actually, it seemed that she took good care of herself, but her unruly hair and all around air of 'Guess what? I don't give a rat's ass!'-ness made it seem otherwise.

If you looked at her skin color, you'd thinks she was sick, assuming from its sheet-white tone. She didn't seem to comb her short hair; it turned into some sort of briar patch near its ends. The blue sheen to her hair was unnatural, yet something no amount of conditioning could ever give it. She needed braces, too, I think. Her teeth weren't uneven, but her canines came down 'a little' (a.k.a. way) longer than they should have, and were strangely pointed. She looked like a vampire, maybe. Her blue eyes were freakishly large. Freakishly. I wondered if she ever noticed how outlandish she looked amongst all of us fair-haired French schoolchildren, even when she wore the same uniform.

I really didn't think she cared. Was that part of not being normal? I wondered.

But I think even not-normal girls cared about being flat-chested. I think I have a decent sized bust and a nice body overall for a fourteen-year-old, the type that made one proud to wear a swimsuit.

But that girl… Once, while in the bathroom, I saw her sitting on the sink, jacket and shirt off, bra revealed. She was staring into the mirror, wrapping gauze around her waist for some unknown reason, though I seemed to be able to catch the smell of blood coming from her for a brief moment before the scent was contained by layers of the material.

She didn't need the bra at all. She was completely and totally flat, although she did have hips, which made her look very unbalanced.

That day in the bathroom, she did nothing more to acknowledge me than stare at my reflection in the mirror. That was the most I've ever interacted with the girl named Mallory Belmond, for good reasons.

She had a nasty personality. In the hallways, she seemed to cringe in disgust of all of us as she walked. She rarely spoke, but when she did, it was in a harsh, androgynous voice. Her language was almost insultingly polite. No matter what she said, that voice had a 'get the hell away from me' edge. I don't think it was voluntary, but it was indeed obvious she didn't want to be around others, using a tone like that. Yet no one ever noticed her, no matter how terrible her personality really was. Infact, she was actually insufferable.

Absolutely insufferable, yet I was the only one who noticed. No one knew Mallory Belmond, it was that simple. She never ran in gym class, only walked, as if it wasn't worth the effort. I've seen her sleep in class. It wasn't like she nodded off during the lecture like everyone else did, she outright walked in, put her head down on the books, and fell asleep. When the teachers woke her up, she looked up at them in some sort of strange quasi-glare. She missed school often, probably ditching and getting in fights, seeing as she often sported some sort of bandage. (The _entire week_ before I saw her wrapping gauze around her waist, Belmond had been missing from school.)

It wasn't like she was from a bad family, either. Actually, she's from one of the richest families in the country, the Belmond family, although probably not from the main household, which found itself situated not far outside our little town.

As far as I had heard, the head of the Belmond family was a single woman. There was gossip floating around that claimed otherwise, but most rumors that blew around town were utterly ridiculous, not to be paid attention to. I mean, while making casual conversation that started about the Belmond mansion's amazingly fancy hedgerow, a shopkeeper said the heiress fell for some sort of demon man, who she got married to. I think the shopkeeper's nutty. I decided not to shop there anymore; he might have done funny things to the merchandise I was going to buy.

If the heiress, Ms. Sherry Belmond, had married, there would have been a huge ceremony and a large party. My parents told me that when the last generation's heir wed, the entire town celebrated for a week, seeing as a member of the Belmond family had been the founder of our picturesque little village.

I didn't think a future heiress of such a family would be going to our school. All of the previous children of the Belmond family had been home schooled, or sent to boarding school somewhere illustrious. Our school didn't fit the criteria of 'illustrious', although it was definitely 'upscale'. Proof: It had uniforms.

My school was for wealthy families, not filthy rich ones.

Wealthy enough to buy me a new scooter, unlike the one I bitterly and unwillingly rode on the day I first spoke to Mallory Belmond. I threw my leg over the seat of my old black scooter, careful not to let my maroon school-issued skirt fly up.

I started my scooter up, and its metal parts inside choked a few times before slowly, slowly, slowly beginning to move forwards, and…

_BAM!_ I believe 'bam' is onomatopoeia, but that _really_ isn't the issue.

It was truly sad that such a slow-speed crash could wreak such internal havoc on my stupid motorbike, leaving me absolutely unscathed, but it did. It sputtered out just as it had sputtered starting up, only this time… it was going, going… gone.

The bike that had collided into mine was a brightly colored new model. Its orangey-pink paint wasn't even scratched by the collision, proving how fragile my own old black scooter had been before its long awaited demise moments before.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry!" called the helmet-less owner of the other scooter. "A-are you okay? Did I kill you?!"

Mallory Belmond hopped off of the orangey pink bike, and flipped out some sort of kickstand, her normal stoic façade she wore in the classroom dissolved, an expression of shock replacing it. "You're… Decatour, right?" she asked, calling me by my surname.

"Uh, yeah, and you're… Belmond?" I knew who she was, but I pretended to ask anyways, a little surprised by the girl's uncharacteristic frenzy.

She bit her bottom lip slightly, nodding, "I'm sorry," she apologized, calming down, "I'm entirely willing to settle."

"N-no, it's no big deal!" I stuttered. Was she really the girl from class, the one who glared up at teachers for reprimanding her for sleeping in class?

"It is," she said, bluntly. "I wrecked your scooter."

"I told you, it's absolutely fine." I stood my bike and attempted to start it up again. I didn't like the way she said that.

"And I told_ you_ that I was going to pay for the damage," she said forcefully as she stared at me with her freakishly large eyes, opening them wider, and leaning in just slightly. "And I _will_ pay for the damage."

God, she could be scary.

Before I knew what was happening, I'd ditched my scooter, which had begun to smoke, at the side of the road on the premises that no one would want to steal the damned thing, and was at a café talking about a settlement with Miss Mallory Belmond, who was indeed the daughter of the heiress. (It was easier to accept money from her now, because I knew she was rich.) She demanded she pay me a good amount of money, and that I call her by her first name, and reached her hand across the table to shake. "Deal?" she grinned slightly, allowing one of her canines to show.

I took her hand and shook it. As I did so, Mallory shook slightly.

"Wow," she said, "wow."

"Huh?"

"I don't think I've carried a conversation with someone from school before, ever." Her grin broadened. "I guess I've just been too busy being an ass."

That was entirely true, as far as I could tell, so I really didn't know how to respond. "Ah, well, you're not being an ass on purpose, and you're working on it, aren't you?" She wasn't working on it as far as I could tell. I could never understand why, though.

"No, and… uh, no," she answered. "I never seem to be able to get around to being a nicer person." That was most definitely sarcasm, which, in situations like this and many others, was not an attractive trait.

"Ah, you know, you'd be a lot better off if you tried to fix that and didn't have that stupid attitude problem!" I hit my hand against the table, but I didn't know why. I now found that Mallory wasn't insufferable, but she was close. Impossible, actually.

"Maybe, maybe. You win," she said, accepting defeat on half of the matter to play with the straw in her drink. "It's not like I'm going to do it, though." She smiled in a pigheaded fashion. "Hey, even my father said he'd hate me if I weren't his daughter. He's been saying it since I was like… eight."

"Oh, geez." I knew I was going to regret the next thing I said, but… "Hey, Mallory, by any chance, is your father a demon?"

At first she seemed shocked that I said that, but then smiled, looked down at the table, her shoulders heaving in a silent laugh.

* * *

"Come on, Pick up," I hissed into the receiver. "Pick up!"

I had no idea what time it was in France, though after all the years of calling Mal, you think I should know.

Maybe she was out of the house, probably at school, though it was a possibility that the schools in France had already let out for the summer. Even if not, her mother would have probably answered the phone by now.

"Pick up… Pick up…" The answering machine answered for her. She'd changed the message from something her mother had recorded since the last time it had received one of my calls.

"You've reached the Belmond family," the voice on the machine said. It could have easily been mistaken for a boy's, but I knew it to belong to a female. "Leave your name and number after the beep, and if you're a telemarketer, you should burn in hell. We don't want what you're selling." What needed to be said needed to be said, right? _Beep. _

Damn. I've always sucked at leaving messages, so I figured it would be best to have Mal call me back to work out anything extra.

"Ah, hey. Mal, Sawao. Call me back if you can. Can't wait for Saturday."

I sort of wished I could take that last part back, even if it was true. She was my best friend, after all. We'd promised.

"Oh, yeah, the point of this call…" I stuttered dumbly, realizing I had paused for a good deal of time, "Li Xiao used her magical speed-talking and persistent spammy-email powers to persuade my dad to let us stay at the house rather than endure another plane ride. Well, dad was actually more they happy to let us stay." I brought the receiver closer to my mouth, and talked in a hushed tone. "They think we think they're going on a casual visit."

A few days earlier I had overheard, well, eavesdropped on a conversation between my father and Gash Bell, an old friend of his who was the king of another world, called the Makai. They were planning to research a symbol carved into the wall of my disappeared sister's room in a large library in America. I really didn't know why our parents were keeping it from us, but I'm glad they didn't drag us into it.

I wanted to find my sister (if she was still alive, that is) as much as anyone else, but I really didn't think researching some symbol would help. It'd exert far too much effort for nothing, I thought. I'd rather stay in Japan and go out for karaoke with Mal and Princess Tutu, and then maybe go out for dinner. Basically, I wanted to spend the summertime with my friends.

"Well, see ya on Saturday, Mal." I said, bringing my phone call to its end. "Call me back." I put the phone back on the receiver, making plans for the summertime I would spend with my friends.

My friends. I was incredibly popular at school, surrounded by the kids who loved hanging out with the 'pop star's handsome son'. Yeah, I'd been called that before. I cringed upon hearing that. Although I smiled while around them, called them on the phone, and even went to their houses, I didn't like them, except for maybe Misuzu Mizuno, who was always pushed to the back by the overbearing crowds of idiots. I could barely say I knew the girl, only that she had a crush on me. I didn't mind it, but didn't really care for her in that manner. In reality, I could barely call Misuzu a friend. Pathetic, I know.

I hated being a 'celebrity baby'. I wasn't Sawao Takamine, I was 'Megumi's son', I was some sort of sideshow that came along with my mother's singing act. There was nothing important about me. I just came in the package with my mom's singing act. I didn't hate her career choice; I simply hated the package that came with_ it_.

Ever since I could remember, I knew my family, myself included, was being hounded by the press. My father, who hated the reporters and paparazzi and stayed out of the limelight, kept some of the more… idiotic tabloids from when I was little so I could read them as I grew up. Many disgusted me so much that I laughed.

Once, when I wasn't even two, my mother was doing a photo shoot with another actress who had a three-year old daughter. Since Dad was busy in college at that time, my mother brought me in and had me sit behind the set, making crayon squiggles on paper with the little girl. Later that month, a magazine published a page about the 'Children of the Stars', complete with a 'future boy/girlfriend' section. Because I had once sat drawing with a girl whose name, at that time, I didn't even have the mental capacity to remember, they expected me to go out with her ten-twenty years in the future. Because little Rika and Taro, two ordinary children, make a block tower together in kindergarten, will they end up together? No. How are I and this girl any different from Rika and Taro? Our mothers were famous, of course.

I only saw that girl I drew with two more times, once when I was eight, and once when I was eleven, both times at large runway parties. We didn't even greet each other. Some romance.

What sucked more about the tabloids was that I had to hide in order to get a smoke in. It would create some sort of scandal, no doubt; although creating a scandal had been the reason I even started smoking. No one ever found out, so it never did. Besides, I didn't want to anymore, seeing as scandals that weren't based on truth have troubled Mom enough.

Why? Why was everyone watching us, so interested in our lives? They're not so exciting. The only thing that's even close to strange that's really ever happened to us as an entire family was Naoko disappearing… But we… _I _hate talking about that.

My mom could sing, that was all that was different about our lives from anyone else's.

I wonder what the magazines and tabloids had thought of Tio, the little girl who had appeared in Mom's life fifteen years ago, and then suddenly vanished. Was she even noticed at all? Probably. When Tio left for the Makai when her book burnt, was my mother upset? If so, did any celebrity magazines speculate about depression? When Mom had fought in battles and gotten injured, even slightly, did any of them ask if she was in some sort of secret abusive relationship? Unless things recently changed, these would have only been the tip of the ice-berg, as far as I can speculate.

I was beginning to wonder if my phone call with Mal had been wiretapped. The family usually gets tapped at least once a month by fanatics of my mother's. That's just plain weird, in my own opinion.

I was surrounded by people, maybe half of the school, who claimed to be my friends, only wanting to bask in the glory my family did not actually have. The other half of the school hated me for being an attention hog. They could have the attention, I didn't want it! Li Xiao and Mallory, they were my friends. We saw each other for only about a month each year, but they're my friends, I know.

The tabloids have stared to look at me, only adding to the large pain in the ass. They say I may have as much musical talent as my mother, which makes no sense. I'm not special; I don't want to be special. 'Sawao' would be a nice identity for me, or perhaps 'Mr. Takamine'. There are plenty of people who deserve the spotlight, just not me!

I apparently am good at playing the guitar, maybe good enough to be a rock star some day. Yeah, right.

Li Xiao has the talent. She can dance, hence her nickname, Princess Tutu. (It's a reference to an old anime that I found some DVDs for in the attic. Mom probably bought them for Tio way back when.) She's fourteen, and already a ballerina in a small dance troupe. She'd be world famous by now if she had my mother.

I had never really wanted to play guitar, anyway.

Strewn in several times among the heap of idiocy the magazine maniacs compile, there lies the foolish idea that I'm attractive. I'd even been suckered into modeling once for a clothes company. Never again. In the face, I look just like my father. He's the genius husband of the pop star, not her son, so none of the attention ever goes directly to him.

No. Both Mallory and Li Xiao are attractive. (I realize it sounds strange when a man says that, but it's not like I check them out. You notice it when people are that pretty.) Plenty of people are, but I'm not.

My drab brown eyes and brunette hair were nothing. (I didn't know that 'brunette' was a word until I read an article describing me as a 'brunette babe'. It was absolutely terrifying. I wanted to sue so badly that now I'm sinking to comparing myself to women.)

Li Xiao had brown eyes, too, but due to some strange twist of genetics, her black hair was naturally slurred with silver. I don't know if that's co-dominance or incomplete dominance, but any stylist that could recreate that deserves a million dollars. The girl had fair skin, and a winning smile. Pretty, I tell you! _Pretty!_

Wow. I sound manly, talking about stylists, huh?

Mal, well, Mallory, seemed to be an almost monochrome blue look to her, aside from the incredibly slight pink tint to her incredibly pale white skin. Even the shadows fell blue on her, and the light shone from her short black hair with the same tone. You could tell she wore make-up on her face; it could never look the way her skin did.

Both Princess Tutu and Mal had mamono, demons which came from Gash Bell's kingdom, for fathers, but Mallory showed it more; however the silver in Li Xiao's hair more than proved her inheritance of demon traits. Mal, on the other hand, obviously had demon blood. Her nails were naturally dark, and her canine teeth slightly elongated and pointed. The make-up she wore served to hide black facial markings which shot both upwards and downwards from her eyes with a curve.

I'm boring, I'm entirely human. My parents, they were both human, both _completely _human.

No, I'm wrong. My mother was a pop star, she was not human, she, and all celebrities, were animals that could be prodded mercilessly for the talents they possessed, and I knew I was going to be dragged into it. I don't want to be known as 'Megumi's Son'. I don't want fame as 'Megumi's Son'. I just want to be Sawao, but the magazines, the tabloids and the pollutant limelight won't let me have that simple sky.

"A simple sky," I voiced absently as I leaned into the wall by the phone, preparing to wait possibly hours for Mal to call back. I never waited at the phone for calls from anyone else, but it was Mal calling.

* * *

"The girl that just disappeared, she's from around here, right, Mallory?" asked they boy, turning his large blue eyes away from the television screen.

"Yeah," replied his sister from the couch, seemingly troubled.

"Did you know her?" asked Demi Belmond, the four-year-old boy.

Mallory nodded. "We talked once, and I've broken her scooter before, but that's it." She paused. "I didn't know her well at all."

Her brother stared at her unblinkingly, possibly expecting more, so Mallory decided to continue. "Just because that weird symbol was cut into the building's wall, it doesn't mean she was taken by the person who took Naoko. It could have been a copy-cat, like that idiot from Prague."

"Do you think Naoko could have been taken away by a copy-cat?" asked Demi quietly, looking up at his sister. His large eyes plastered in his pale face seemed to be begging her to say 'yes', regardless of whether it was the truth or not.

Mallory wasn't the type to tell her young brother a little white lie.

Mallory shook her head. "Sorry, kid. She was the first to go. There's no way."

With that, all traces of hope left the boy. "Oh. Do you think that… whoever-it-is could come take me too, Mallory?"

"Don't worry," she said, hoisting herself up off the couch. "They rarely strike twice in the same country, let alone the same neighborhood. That's what gave away the guy from Prague, remember? You're safe." Mallory walked off to go get the answering machine, which was reading 'New Message', while her brother stared blankly at the screen, not taking in any of the flashing images that danced across the TV set.

He'd been strangely disappointed by his sister's statement.

* * *

Now for the Boogiepop Phantom ending theme!

_Kono hoshi no hashikko de miageru taiyou…_

Okay, I'll cut it short, I'm done. I love that song. XD

Well, as you noticed, Sawao said Mallory was pretty, but Vieve said she was average-looking. She really is average. XD

And I know the story sucks…. Though I kinda liked the last segment.

Well, **review**, or I'll be forced to devote _more_ of my time to stalking you.


	3. Hello, Welcome to Bubbletown's Happy Zoo

**March of the God**

**Chapter 3: Hello, Welcome to Bubbletown's Happy Zoo**

…..I… I… lost **all** my plans for this…. TT-TT I know what's supposed to happen, but stil… -sniffle- And then I got grounded from the computer. TT-TT Still am…

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Konjiki no Gash Bell or anything else I might mention in this fanfic.

Anyhow, today we start out with Sherry's POV. I think this is the first time in the fic that I've been through the point of view of a cannon character in this. 

* * *

My name is Sherry Belmond. I'm thirty-one years old, and the heiress of one of the oldest families with one of the biggest fortunes in the country of France.

I'd have to say my family is strange, to say the least. I was unofficially married, to a demon from another world called a mamono, no less, at age sixteen. Fifteen years later, I found myself with two children, born ten years apart, a boy of four, and a girl of fourteen. I love all three of them more than life, I suppose I should say.

I met my husband, Brago, when I was chosen to fight beside him in a war determining the next king of the Makai, and I let him down by losing. After Brago helped me save my best friend from the clutches of an evil demon named Zophise, I failed him. However, in the period of time Brago and I worked together, we _somehow_ managed to fall in love, although we absolutely despised each other when we first met.

This love which had _somehow_ managed to grow between us caused the winner of the battle, Gash Bell, to allow Brago to live with me in my mansion in the French countryside.

Actually, living with me had started as a weekend visit that Gash had either prompted or annoyed Brago into taking. However, after spending the entire weekend with me, Brago didn't particularly want to leave. Gash was more than happy to oblige.

As I've mentioned, Brago and I have two children. He says they look like me, I say they look like him. I don't know which of us is right, but I argue on anyways, seeing as Brago and I must _always_ have something to bicker about, but now almost always in a friendly and almost, dare I say it, loving manner. We rarely ever have major disagreements about anything serious nowadays, but occasionally, problems do come up.

No matter which of us our children most resemble, we must agree on the fact that they look exactly alike. They had the same pale white skin, same dark hair, same colored nails, and the same large blue eyes. However, the similarities between my children stopped at physical appearance. The personalities of Mallory and Demi were entirely different.

All of us…. We all agreed that Demi, my four-year-old boy, was frail, personality-wise. No, frail wasn't the word for how he was, not at all. It just… disgusts me to say this; it makes me feel like an absolutely terrible mother, but in truth, my son Demi didn't even seem to have a personality at all, most of the time.

Demi never fought the current on anything. He never argued or showed any dislike for anything, he never protested against any motion put forth, but at the same time, he never showed like for any one thing in particular, or seemed to have a positive idea about any action or suggestion. He never had an opinion of his own about anything, or at least a strong enough one to speak up on his thought's behalf.

I had never heard my son cry, even as an infant. I had never seen the boy laugh, either, though an airy smile sometimes graced his soft features. There never was any clear cause of this effect, it seemed that just being alive was somewhat pleasant to Demi, but nothing about it ever aroused him in any fashion. Except maybe… well… of course… I just can't think about it.

The slightest signs of emotion from Demi were to be taken seriously, even the tip of his mouth curving down warranted a 'What's the matter, Demi', and maybe a hug. He seemed to appreciate it to some degree, clutching the fabric of the clothing the one who approached him wore whenever someone did so.

Demi was an easy, docile child, never causing any sort of problem. He never brought any hardship into his rearing; he obeyed parental orders without a word of protest.

Brago swore to God that there was something wrong with our son.

"No child, human or demon, is that calm," he'd once said. "I'm sure he lacks reflexes. Once, one of those maid women you have running around accidentally knocked him into the wall with a laundry cart. He didn't even flinch when the damn thing hit him, or upon impact against the wall, or even bother to get up for half-a-minute afterwards. I swear to God something's wrong with him."

When my daughter, Mallory, had been Demi's age, ten years ago, she had been anything but easy and docile. She often threw tantrums and yelled, breaking things such as priceless vases and sculptures in attempt to get her way. Mallory was a smart girl, she knew very well the worth of these items, and how hard they would be to replace. Mallory didn't cry, she screamed. Sometimes, tears streamed down her face as she did so, but she never lost that forceful edge to her voice. When she was not upset, she was quiet, and refused to talk to anyone regarding anything.

In many ways, she had reminded me of Brago when I first met him. However, I could not discipline my daughter in the same way I 'disciplined' Brago, by threatening to kill myself. I actually had to calm Mallory down and make an attempt to talk and reason with her, a tactic largely ineffective in comparison to Brago's idea of saying a few choice words, and then slapping her.

I never liked my husband's approach to disciplining Mallory, but I must admit that in the long run, it did work. By the time she was five, her behavior had improved greatly.

From the time when Mallory was two, until the time she was four, Brago utterly hated her. Most of the time, he tried not to show his dislike of our child, to hide it from me. He didn't do too well at this, seeing as Brago had long ago established dislike as his favorite opinion on things, and out of habit, it showed through.

Eventually, I did point out to Brago how alike his four-year-old daughter's behavior had been to his five years previously. When I mentioned this to him, Brago was actually quite uncharacteristically shocked, as if he had never noticed any similarity. Knowing him, he probably never had. (Afterwards, I managed to embarrass him by telling him, "You really did act in exactly the same fashion, although you were more… violent, and _ten years older_." I had put emphasis on those words (though the situation back then had not been anything to laugh about), and continued to tease my husband, "Immature, Brago, very immature." He'd already been shaken up a bit. It was impossible to resist taunting him a little more, seeing as getting a reaction, other than an annoyed grunt, to this sort of thing out of Brago was a rare treat.)

After I shared that information with him, though not immediately, Brago began to spend a lot of time with Mallory. It was actually pretty funny how he attempted to use 'because she's my daughter' as an excuse for his newfound like of her. He even taught her the basics of fighting, subsequent to which she asked to continue in her training course. Actually, I think Brago began to show interest in Mallory after she showed him a _Reisu_ attack, asking him 'What the hell's this?' (Mallory, at a very young age, around four, had begun to use language… somewhat unsuitable for a young lady, to say the least. Of course I knew who to blame, so I tried to get Brago to watch his language… which didn't really work at all. I've been trying to crack Mallory's habit, which, likewise, hasn't worked at all.) Demi, unlike Mallory, has not been able to use any sort of magic. It had to do with emotion, I was sure, exactly how it worked with reading the spell book in the days of the battle. It had to.

My deadpan, impassive son could never be on the same emotional level as my livid, screaming daughter. Demi is incapable of even a tiny attack, so Brago pays no attention to him as far as physical training goes… I'm so glad.

…I honestly wished Brago had never taught Mallory how to fight, even if she enjoyed the practice, completely and fully.

I still can't forget.

* * *

My two absolute worst memories come to me only in pieces now, despite how terribly vivid my remembrance had been for years after the events had happened. They, on a level, were the same words, but so different…

"_Sherry, look! I did this! I used my powers!_"

I remember the words, and the crackling, blazing heat of the fire that raged behind my dear friend Koko. As she told me of how she was going to use her 'power', her ability to wreak havoc using Zophise's spells, to get revenge on and take the money from those who had antagonized her in the past as I stared into her dully luminous purple eyes, signs of her possession, signs of how her thoughts and emotions had been contorted and manipulated by the evil demon that stood at her side. My best friend had been taken from me.

It wasn't really like the other memory at all past the surface, not quite like it…

"_Mother, look! Since father taught me to fight, I can hurt them now, so they're afraid of me! I can make all of these kids do whatever I want! Cool, hmm?_"

I remember the warmth of the sun and the feeling of the cool breeze against my cheek. I remember the proud, almost innocent smile of the six-year-old girl, tilted up at me. My daughter had said that… and she wanted me to be proud of her actions, as well. Her eyes, her bright blue eyes, were clear and bright, obviously and of course her very own.

Her words, too, were her own, founded on ideas she had formulated by herself.

I think, standing there at the park, I wanted to cry.

* * *

"Mother."

Sherry turned her head to face the speaker, her fourteen-year-old daughter. "Mm?"

"I'm worried about Demi," the girl said, looking down at her folded hands, which rested in her lap. She had recently switched plane seats with her brother, who had quietly shuffled down the aisle to sit with his father just a few minutes ago.

The Belmond family had been on a direct flight from France to Japan for a long nine hours, a draining experience. The family of four had been separated into two groups, seeing as they bought the tickets at the last minute. They all sat in first class, although on different sides of the aisle, and in different rows.

"Because of Naoko, right?" Sherry asked.

Mallory nodded. "Last time we saw Kiyomaro's family, he literally was clinging to Naoko like his life depended on it. He's been doing the same thing since he could walk over to her to do so."

Neither Mallory nor her brother had ever referred to their parents as 'mom' or 'dad', or as 'mommy' or 'daddy'. It had been 'mother' and 'father' from the time that they could articulately form the words. Mallory, however, referred to most others rather informally. For example, she usually addressed Kiyomaro Takamine, fifteen years her senior, by first name, as she did with most adults.

Aside from his parents and sister, Demi never addressed anyone by name, accept for Naoko. 'Nao', he had called her, just 'Nao', but ever since the ten-year-old girl had disappeared, it had gone back to 'Naoko'.

Sherry closed her eyes for a few seconds. It was true; Demi had always seemed to be fond of Naoko, in his own little way. He often clung to his sister, or sometimes Sherry herself or maybe Brago, but never in the same way as he did to Naoko. Demi had played with other children before, but he never seemed to be really interested at all in the games. The boy shared the same amount of interest in that with about everything else in life. However, the most enthusiasm, and even then, only a tiny, tiny amount, the Belmond family had ever seen from their youngest member was at the prospect of visiting the Takamine family.

But… Seeing as Naoko was gone, what now?

* * *

"Who the hell are you, you… you… creep?!" I wanted to slap that serene, silent face that sat in a (more than likely stolen) leather loveseat across the table from me. The girl who owned the face, apparently about ten years old, leaned on an unabridged dictionary that rest on the card table.

The large room was dark, lit only by a table lamp that rest, seemingly out of place, upon a (more than likely stolen) rolling ottoman which was in an ugly chartreuse color. It seemed to have been worn a bit, the fabric somewhat shabby and cheap, aged but well treated. I doubted if the thing could hold human weight anymore. The (more than likely stolen) lamp was supplied power by assorted, mismatched electrical cords, which twisted and waved until they found their way into a small hole into the rocky, unpolished walls of the stone room. The entire, windowless place was stone, and I had begun to wonder if we were somewhere underground.

A myriad of books on every subject imaginable littered the stone ground, fiction and nonfiction, fantasy and fact, with subjects ranging from Cubs baseball to the operation of a computer to WWII in Europe, genres from sci-fi to horror, from romance to adventure novels. Shakespeare plays, popular, recent, clichéd to hell paperback novels, children's storybooks, they were all strewn amongst the pile of tomes. There were more books in the room that I'd ever read. There were probably more books in there than in the school library, I could swear.

Beside the couch she sat on, there lay a few miscellaneous items, which seemed to have once been part of a much bigger pile of assorted junk that had been evaporated by the removal of items from it. There was no bed in the room, nowhere to sleep, except for maybe the couch the girl sat on. It was a strange room, to say the least.

"Please," she said in a calm, sweet voice, "Have a seat, Vieve, right? I know the place isn't much, but I'm working on ways to make it more pleasant, really… I've gotten indoor plumbing and a bit of electricity already, and later this week, I'm getting some rooms _carpeted_!" She almost squealed in delight, but fought the girly mannerism back. "Humans are so smart, really. They should get more credit for what they can do…"

Okay, that was just plain weird. She referred to humans as an outsider of the race, as if she was an alien or mythical creature of some sort, something else entirely. I was about to protest this odd girl's abduction knocking-out-when-I-yelled-'FIRE'-to-convince-people-to-actually-come of me, when she motioned to a folding chair across the card table from me. Once I had woken up from my daze, sitting on a stone floor, two freaks, probably on steroids, judging by their build and strength, had come and thrown me in this room with the smiling lunatic. As I was about to chew her out, said lunatic spoke again.

"Come on, Vieve, I have at least twelve more people to test after you. And sometimes, I don't pick good words, so it takes forever… Sit down." The girl referred to me by name again, causing me to jump unpleasantly.

All I could ask was, "How do you know my name?!" nearly yelling in my speech.

"I'm psychic!" she declared. "You're Vieve Decatour, weigh 120 pounds, blood type B, and are one hundred and forty-four centimeters in height! You'll turn fifteen on September eighteenth, and you're allergic to peaches!"

My stomach lurched. Her information was flawless, absolutely. "P-psych?!" I began to mouth.

"I jest, I jest. I just looked through your pockets when you were still asleep, and found your school ID! They put a lot of information on those, huh?" she said, smiling. Almost reflexively, I checked the pocket of my school-issued maroon coat for my ID card. It wasn't there. It wasn't in the other pocket, either.

The girl produced the card I had been searching for from a fold in the white skirt she wore, and tossed it onto the card table. "So, Vieve, sit down so we can get started!"

I obeyed, seeing as it was the third time the girl had asked me to do so. "Started? Started on what?" I asked, deliberately impertinently as I sat down across the table form her.

"I am Babylon Angel," she said, "and this is a _job_ _interview_. I need cronies so I can draw the King of the Makai to this world, Ningenkai, and obtain a victory over him, a.k.a. kill him, in an area I know well, where I have all the advantage. Why…? Well, it's kinda a mixture of pride, and… hmm… nostalgia. Dunno if that was a good word for it, but we'll put it there, 'kay?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off. "Why would one such as I, a powerful demon, in my own rights, need minions, you may ask. It's just one blonde guy and his friend that reads off his spells, right? Wrong!"

Around here, I took note that 'Babylon' sounded pretty much… well… exactly like 'babble on'. She continued, "The King will more than likely bring allies when he finds out about this place. It's pretty hard to fight people on all sides of you, attacking all at once, y'know. It should take about two weeks, but I could be wrong... I need minions to take out his allies. Bu-u-u-t…. seeing as these allies and the King have endured a long battle with their human partners, and have known each other for like… fifteen years, It'd be a good idea to outnumber them. I mean, I'm here expecting you to operate less than a month after meeting your own partner…"

"Partner?" I interjected, finally getting a word in edgewise. I had so many things to ask her, like what she meant by 'demon'. A demon, maybe, like Mallory's father? I don't know. But the girl talked too fast for me to form a sentence in the gaps she gave me.

"Wow, I'm getting the feeling you like to spit out lots of random words, don't you?" As she said this, she tossed a crème-colored book out over the table. "You can read this, right?"

I stared at the foreign, unrecognizable symbols on the cover. "No!" I yelled, almost forcefully, shoving the book back at her.

"The inside," the girl said propping the book open. "How 'bout now?"

I could make out the words, the unfamiliar markings which filled the pages, but only a tiny bit. I could make them out. Though I did not really want to, I nodded dumbly.

"Good! Now, Vieve," she said, staring into the 'V' section of the large dictionary she had on the desk. Babylon Angel said, closing her eyes and lifting her finger above her head. She smacked her finger down onto the page, and finished her sentence. "…what does 'villain' mean to you?" She then muttered something about it being a 'good word'.

I decided to try and shake her up. Even when she spoke of killing this King of the Makai, Babylon Angel just smiled charmingly.

"Villains?" Creeps like you who abduct young girls and kill people!" I said vehemently, banging my hand on the card table. It shook a little on its weak legs as I did so. For a moment, it looked like it was going to topple over due to the force of my fist and the weight of the large dictionary.

Well, she wasn't smiling anymore, but her frown was…. cute, to say the least.

"Aaw… Vieve, that was mean!" she pouted. "I suppose that I am a villain, though." The smile returned. "….Because only villains brainwash people they need into working for them."

I jumped. "Brainwash?!"

"Okay, technically it's manipulating your heart to a point where I erase your personality and memories, but it's still forcing you to work for me. There _are_ quick 'n' convenient ways to brainwash people in large groups, but I don't have any of the means to do such a thing, so, this'll have to work."

I stared.

"Don't worry, I feed all of my underlings, and I think I mentioned the plumbing I had some humans install," Babylon Angel said. "Besides, once Gash Bell is dead and I return to the Makai to establish myself at its head, you can return to living your life, provided that you can find air fare."

Enough talk of killing this guy already, it was wrong! "You know, you're not going to get away with this!" I yelled, and Babylon Angel gasped, loudly and histrionically.

"Cliché! Cliché!" she said, placing her hands on the side of her face like that one _supposed_ masterpiece, 'The Scream', and doing her best to imitate the facial expression. "Anyhow, it's worth a shot," she said, un-posing like 'The Scream'.

"Now, dearest," she said, almost… evilly, "you're going to have to make eye contact with me in order for me to mess with your mind."

I tried not to make eye contact, I really did, but just for a moment, the girl's gaze met with mine.

I… I couldn't look away.

* * *

"And 'be good', they say!" the Chinese girl slammed the door shut. "Off to America with our parents, and one-week-plus of no supervision!" She cheered, expecting the lethargic teens on the couch to do the same.

"You two do realize that you're very boring, right?" the girl added.

"Jetlag, Li Xiao, jetlag," said Mallory, turning her head on the armrest to bury her face in the upholstery.

"Well, that is a fair reason," Li Xiao said, "but Sawao has no excuse!" She snapped her fingers, and pointed at the boy lying at the other end of the long couch. She marched over, and attempted to haul the Japanese teenager off the couch by his feet, with much success.

"Ah, dammit, Li Xiao!" Sawao cried as his head hit the floor, referring to the girl by her proper name instead of the nickname she had been given so long ago. He tried wiggling his legs a little, trying to fight free from Li Xiao's grasp on his ankles in vain.

"Come, on, Sawao! You're in a house with two beautiful women and an emo little kid! _Unsupervised!_ Come on, minus the emo child, isn't that any man's dream?!"

* * *

Luckily, Princess Tutu didn't tack 'or are you gay?!' onto the end of that. Indeed, we were unsupervised; our parents had gone to America to research my sister Naoko's disappearance. I thought the idea was incredibly stupid, but hey, I didn't tell them. My grandmother, who would usually be here, had left to visit my grandfather in England just after Naoko had vanished. She figured he'd need some company. As Li Xiao had said, we were unsupervised.

She released her grip on my ankles, and I stood up. "An emo child, eh?"

Usually when the word 'emo' came up, we were jokingly referring to Mallory. Heh, stereotypes.

We knew she didn't cut or anything, we just liked to say it. In her own words, Mal looked "…like some sort of reject from the emo farm, wherever the hell that is." She wore copious amounts of black at all times, though it was usually paired with some other color. I knew for a fact that yellow was Mal's favorite color, but she never wore it, claiming she looked terrible in any shade of it. She wore tights often, protruding from what was usually a boot, and ran up into whatever article of clothing she was wearing on her lower body. Normally, there was more than one fishnet garment on Mal's person. Her looks greatly contrasted that of Li Xiao's loose fitting, traditional Chinese garments, which were often in pastel colors.

This time, however, I knew Princess Tutu was definitely referring to Demi.

"Yeah. Coat-rack fixation much?" she asked, almost whispering.

From the time when our parents had left with King Gash the Blonde, Demi had been staring at the coat rack, or rather a dark blue coat on it. Naoko's coat.

Demi had always been somewhat attached to my disappeared sister, ever since he had met her. He'd always seemed kind of clingy, but I can't describe why. It wasn't like he was afraid of anything, like some kids were, but it was more like… like… well, he liked what he was clinging to more than the rest of the world. And, every time he was near Naoko, he did most definitely cling to her.

Mal had told me in an email that she was worried about how her brother might take it, being in a place that he so associated with Naoko, and finding it devoid of the girl. He knew she probably wasn't coming back, he was a smart kid. If I didn't know Demi, I could have sworn he was going to cry, staring up at that coat.

Demi was a blank slate. Mallory, her mother and sometimes even Li Xiao, who had unofficially taken on the role as _everyone's_ big sister, went nuts when he even showed a bit of negative emotion. It's not like they were smothering the kid, though. With him, a frown is probably like a normal person's bawling and even depression.

No one in my family had ever had the heart to remove the coat, Naoko's memoir that lay out in the open. Naoko, the sister who I loved and saw all goodness manifested in…. well, sure, Naoko could be annoying as hell, but she was gone now. I couldn't look at the bad things, and almost felt terrible about thinking she was annoying at all.

It was kind of like how one of the neighbors used to own this dog, which made an incredibly irritating wheezing noise in place of a bark. Every day, it would lie, tethered to their front lawn in the middle of the sidewalk, sunning itself. This caused me to trip over the thing as I walked to and from school. Of course I never saw it; my mind was always on the crap that happened at school, not on the blob in the walkway. Once I'd tripped on it, and turned to glare at the small wheezing monster, it would stare up at me stupidly, and wheeze again, its attention drifting elsewhere. I literally hated the dog. The neighbors never watched it during the day. I kicked it. I kicked it and enjoyed doing so, due to my intense loathing of the creature. Guess which sound it made when I kicked it? That's right! "_Wheeze!_" Anyhow, one day, the dog wasn't in the sidewalk. I went out of the way to knock on the neighbor's door and ask what had happened to their little dog. That's when I found out that the damned thing had died of a tumor it had had for quite a while. I felt terrible about kicking it, really. I felt so bad about hating it, for some reason.

I felt the same way about the wheezing dog as I did about finding Naoko irritating, about leaving her out of activities, about forgetting to buy her a can of soda, or any of that wonderful stuff older siblings do to their juniors.

But how could we take Naoko's coat down? One could say it no longer had any use, but while it was still on the rack, it would feel as if Naoko would run by and grab it, yelling, "Ma! Dad! I'm going to go over to Sachiko and Jonouchi's now!" or something.

Maybe we should have removed the coat, I thought as I looked at the small half-mamono boy, but that thought was soon pushed out by another. If I were Demi, I'd rather return to a house what still had traces of the girl I knew than one wiped clean of any and all records of her existence.

"Oi, Mallory, can I try and cheer up your brother?" Li Xiao asked, pointing to Demi.

"Do whatever," Mallory said, turning her head up, just slightly, from the arm of the couch. "It's not going to help."

Mal had probably tried to cheer Demi up earlier, failing miserable. Then again, Mal always made everything seem way worse. I mean, how reassuring is, '_Your mother's new stalker is supposed to be an ex-con, right? It'll probably be easier to put him back in jail once he's broken into your house and messed with all your shit or done worse… Oh, you know what 'worse' is, Sawao._'?! Mallory was always harsh with her speech, she never sugar-coated anything. She was the one who told Naoko Santa Claus didn't exist. Although she made it so I myself didn't have to break the girl's heart, I thought it was awfully mean of Mallory to put that fact out there. Mean. There's a word that described a large facet of Mallory's personality. I still liked her, though, and I liked liking her.

I watched as Li Xiao strutted over to Demi.

"Hey, what's up, Emo Elmo?" the Chinese girl asked, bending down slightly.

No answer came from the small boy, his blue eyes glued to Naoko's jacket.

"You like the coat, huh?"

"Well… I… I guess. It's nice, but… it's not my coat… It's Naoko's." he whispered, barely audible. He paused between his words as if he was carefully choosing what to say next, even in short sentences.

"You know, it's awfully out in the open here… someone might just steal it!"

As the words left Li Xiao's mouth, Demi's eyes opened wide in horror without changing the rest of his facial expression. I couldn't help but wonder what in hell Princess Tutu was doing. But she continued, "I think Naoko would need the coat for when she comes back, hmm? Summer only lasts so long, right?"

Demi nodded slightly, still staring at the coat on the rack, looking pretty freaked out at the prospect of thieves.

"Well, I think you should watch the coat for Naoko! I mean, when she's back, she'll be so happy that her coat wasn't stolen, and you can tell her, proudly, that you watched it for her!" With that, Li Xiao heaved the coat off the rack at Demi, who quickly caught it in his tiny hand. The boy buried his face in it, and stood there, immobile.

Demi was a really weird kid, to say the least.

"Watch Naoko's room for her, too!" Li Xiao said, motioning for Demi to go upstairs. After a few moments, she herself ushered him to the room once occupied by my sister.

The girl strolled back downstairs after closing the door halfway. "Hopefully he crashes soon. He's got to be jetlagged if Mallory's that out of it," the girl we call Princess Tutu said, motioning to the lump on the sofa.

"Uhh… really…" I said, not really sure of a proper response to her statement.

"Yeah. Kids need their sleep, you know." She smiled. "So-o-ooo…" Li Xiao said loudly, "What do we do now? Go to the movies? Out to eat? Karaoke, maybe? Or how about we rent some videos and make instant ramen, hmm?"

Mallory groaned, and turned on the couch to face the cushion in the back. She pulled the hood of her short-sleeved striped jacket up over her head using the arm she wasn't laying on.

"You two make too much noise…" she said, grumbling. "Especially you, Li Xiao."

"As always," cheered Li Xiao. She saluted as she said this. "Being super-loud while others try to sleep is lotsa' fun, you know!"

"Kicking your ass if you don't shut up is quite a bit of fun too," the lump on the couch that was Mallory warned.

"Okay, okay," Li Xiao said, chuckling. "I get your point, Oh, violent child."

We both knew that was an empty threat, although Mallory could easily beat either of us up. She actively trained at fighting…. And missed a lot of school because of it. Mallory's pretty smart, as far as I can tell, but she constantly blew off class and homework to destroy trees and shrubs out in the forest under the supervision of her father, who just happens to haunt my worst nightmares. As a result, she's just barely passing her classes.

Mallory inherited some use of gravity-magic from her creepy-as-hell father, or so she's told me. I never have actually seen her use one of these techniques, but I'll believe her. Mal's given me detailed accounts of all sorts of crap, like the 'family outing' when her father dragged her mother, who, at the time was four months pregnant with Demi, out into the woods to demonstrate a spell to her, and the time she was out alone and ended up taking out someone's summer home or something. No one was in there, so Mallory told no one. She told no one, that is, but Princess Tutu and me.

Li Xiao also inherited magical powers from her father, but didn't practice martial arts like her parents did. Instead, she danced ballet. She really was good. Li Xiao and the troupe she was with preformed at a local theatre once. Or course I went to see her.

She was like Harry Nash of Who Am I This Time, a short story I had to read for class by this one nut who usually wrote sci-fi. Li Xiao's expression, as she jumped and pirouetted, matched perfectly with the music, matched perfectly with her role. It was amazing that the ostensibly mournful dancer was really the happy girl I knew offstage, that the convincingly love-struck ballerina was in truth the carefree Li Xiao.

No wonder Li Xiao's parents were so proud of her dancing abilities.

Still, Li Xiao was well versed in basic martial arts, and could use magic as Mallory could. She couldn't use as many spells as Mallory could, though, but it was quite understandable.

Li Xiao was home-schooled, she had to be. Her family, and by family, I mean her mother, her father and herself, rarely stayed at the home her great-grandparents owned halfway across the country from my home, traveling around for various reasons, such as Li Xiao's ballet performances, and casual vacations, one after the other. After Li Xiao had been born, her mom goting a whole bunch of money from Li Xiao's grandfather, who apparently was one of the most elusive and mysterious crime bosses in all of Hong Kong.

Li Xiao visited out house often, far more often than Mallory. Her grandparent's house, however, is only half-a-day's drive away from Mochinoki City, not even two hours in an airplane. She might even come twice in a month and stay a week. Mal visited maybe five times in a year, if I was lucky. My family went to France once in awhile, too. Li Xiao's visits were far more constant, far more regular.

Despite this, I still called Mal my best friend. I'd never, ever, out of fear for my life, say this aloud, but really, Mal was the closest thing to a male friend I'd ever have. Though she was pretty, she was tomboyish, masculine and most of time, unladylike, at least around me. Heck, she didn't even have boobs.

Maybe that's why I shortened her name to Mal, something quick and unfeminine. It just… suited her behavior towards me. But Mal was _different_ by some people, namely my dad. She was polite towards him, a kind politeness, not the excessive, almost mocking courtesy she had towards strangers. Mallory was, to the extent she could possibly be, _girly_ near my father, Kiyomaro Takamine.

It pissed me off. I didn't know why, but the way Mallory acted around my dad pissed me off to no end. It wasn't like the Mal I'd become comfortable with, it just wasn't…!

"So… ass-kicking aside, what to do tonight?" Princess Tutu asked.

Mallory herself spoke. "…Anyhow… I'm for renting a few movies," the girl said, stretching and sitting up on the couch. "How about you, Rock Star?" she asked, turning towards me.

"I'm for it too," I said. I, really, was for anything that Mallory said, blissfully unaware of the twists and turns of the near future.

* * *

What a crappy chapter, especially the end. I mean… seriously. I'm sorry for making you suffer this long piece of crap.

I bet you're wondering how I managed to type this long-ass thing while grounded from the computer, huh? Well, I'll tell you, makin' it short. - I have a laptop that doesn't work on the Internet. I typed it up on the laptop, and burned it to a CD. Then, when my parents weren't around, I put it onto the computer and uploaded it. So, shyeah.

**Review**. It really makes me happy!


	4. Fool on the Planet

* * *

**March of the God**

**Chapter 4: Fool on the Planet**

Hello, children. Here we are in the van, reading the next chapter of March of the God. I'm telling you the truth: I'm putting a helluva lot of effort into this. 

And, contained in this chapter are the dangers of a Kiyomaro who has been annoyed and deprived of sleep for three days. Head for cover!

… well… Kiyomaro's been having an incredibly testy streak where he appears so far throughout this entire story, I've noticed… (Well, I'm the author…) I'll give him a good night's sleep in a chapter or so, because he really hasn't been getting enough.

Oh, and I apologize to Kanchomé ahead of time. Even if he is fictional. 

And I apologize for the huge Boogiepop reference ahead of time. I actually said Boogiepop… 0-o

…it is hard imagining Kid and Kanchomé as adults, really. Gash too, but Kid and Kanchomé are harder. I can imagine Tio, though, because she looks so much like Megumi.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Konjiki no Gash Bell, or anything that I may decide to disgrace by putting it into this crap. However, I do own my OCs.

* * *

The rain was cold, cold, too cold for summertime, yet it fell in summertime, sweeping up all who were outside in its extreme chill.

The blonde boy shivered, caught up in this extreme chill. His bare knees, not covered by his dark blue shorts, shook as he wearily walked through the city limits, into its hub. The tired child dripped with water, although the looming buildings of the city and their canopies now protected him from some of the falling droplets. He'd been thoroughly drenched from an earlier leg of his trek, out in the open.

Now shielded by awnings, he began to dry just slightly, the water seeming almost sticky, especially in his joints, the damp little hinges that in his arms remained locked, but in his legs bent and swung, ever bearing the boy forward. The fluid squashed about in his shoes, forced out of the bottoms of his once white socks by his little plodding feet, going down and up on the pavement, down and up. Clumps of yellow hair, heavy and parted by the water, mud, and even the filth of the city, hanging from the boy's scalp dripped dirty trickles of water onto his round face. As he passed out from under the striped canopy of a hotel, a jet of water, running down and falling from the fabric, hit the top of his head, dead center.

He jumped, and then shivered, holding his red book, cover and pages laced with symbols that belonged to no language of man, to his chest. It was a large, heavy, hardcover book, a great burden for one of his size to carry, especially for the distance the six-year-old had been walking, over twelve miles in the rain.

He'd arrived in this world, called Ningenkai, the day before, just before sunset. He walked, maybe for two hours that night, in the direction of the light on the horizon, where all the cars were headed. He barely made two miles as the sky became clouded above him, stumbling on the uneven ground, carried on short legs. When he was too tired to carry on, he had made himself a bed of dead grasses. In the morning, shortly after the boy had come around, it rained, and it hadn't stopped.

He did not shield the incoming beads of water with his large red book as his tiny body intercepted their plummet towards the earth. It was far too precious to the blonde child, far too important. Instead, he blocked the book from the downpour using his shaking mass. He was not heavy, but his weight grew heavier and heavier as he continued to walk in the rain. His feet, shriveled with water felt ready to crack as he willfully stumbled deeper into Mochinoki City.

Teo Bell didn't know of the city that he weakly traipsed through's connection to his parentage, nor did her know if anyone in its sprawling, manmade jungle could read the book he carried. All he knew was that he had to save Rue. Rue, little Rue, his darling cousin, and his first and best friend.

Teo's aunt, Rue's mother, had told Teo he could save Rue if he left his home in the Makai, the world he had never before left, to go to the hugely foreign expanse of Ningenkai to find a bookkeeper, and then track down whoever had taken Rue. Teo, then, with the help of this bookkeeper, would save Rue, using force if necessary.

He'd thought it was an absolutely brilliant idea when he'd been sent off, his aunt performing the magic to send him to Ningenkai, but now, Teo wondered if his aunt had given her plan a moment's thought before setting him off to retrieve Rue. She'd been to Ningenkai before, why didn't she tell him of how big it was, Teo wondered. He wanted to cry, he wanted to cry badly, but not yet, he still hadn't found anything he was looking for, not yet.

The blonde boy, Teo Bell, tripped, shivering. He fell on the book, both it and his arm breaking his fall. No one, no one helped him up, the adults, all dressed in expensive suits brushed past the wet, pitiful child lying on the street in a great hurry as they traveled in between the huge stone towers, supported by large metal shafts, out and in, to and from. Teo fought the tears back from his amber eyes as he stood up on his feet, unfeeling to all but the pain that gripped his soles. He stumbled a bit, and then caught himself on a post which held aloft the traffic light, which glowed red. Teo scurried across the street as fast as his exhausted legs could take him, nearly tripping several times. He couldn't fall again, especially not in the middle of the street, he reasoned.

Finally, he reached the sidewalk. Teo wanted, so badly, to stop the people rushing by to ask them if they could read the spellbook, to ask them if they could help him, but he could not muster up the courage to attract their attention, especially the way he looked. Teo simply forged on into the city, holding his book close to him.

So cold, cold, he thought, too cold for summertime…

* * *

Kiyomaro Takamine was in a bad mood, a very bad mood. He, along with a group of companions, had, three days ago, left for America to research a symbol linked to several disappearances, including that of his own daughter, in the great book collection of Nazo Nazo Hakase. He had gone, for all of this period without any sleep, fueled on small amounts of caffeine with his nose in the books. On the airplane, his carry-on bag had been chocked with books, books and books, completely relevant to symbols of all types, all of which he had read by the time they had touched down. Kiyomaro's great annoyance, which he had been doing a good job of keeping pent up in a book, stemmed from two things: the overall lack of progress, and the fact that he was among the only ones actually researching.

He wasn't at all angered by the female part of the party leaving to 'go pick up dinner and talk about how terrible husbands can be', slicing the labor force in half. After all, the group didn't have anything to eat, and there were no order-out restaurants nearby, and, according to the not-so-trusted word of Nazo Nazo Hakase, the only one of the Majestic Twelve that could cook at all, Big Boing, had left to get _breast implants_ to heal the damage on her self-confidence that the finding of her first gray hair had wrought. (The rest of the Majestic Twelve happened to be off on various spa vacations and such.) The elderly man didn't say he was kidding when he released the information.

Kiyomaro wasn't all that irked by the first five coffee breaks that a good deal of his co-researchers had taken over the last half-of-day, but at the sixth one, the man had begun to feel that the group wasn't taking this investigation seriously enough. …and they always had to talk so loudly.

"Yeah," said the voice of Kid, "she's hysteric. I saw her when I was looking into the symbol at the Grand Makai Library… She was aimlessly wandering around in the novel aisles, crying and talking to herself."

"She was the same way when I met her on the road up to the palace to come over to Ningenkai with you guys… She was doing the same thing, only she was kind of walking through flowerbeds…" said Kanchomé, whose old partner, Folgore, had recently been contacted and summoned to the house. He was on a plane over from his home in Milan at that very moment, in fact. (This added to Kiyomaro's irritation. Folgore… the perfect distraction from actual progress! His old hit, ChiChi wo Moge, had recently been declared a classic… that would sure get him singing.) The duck-person continued, "Gash, I don't know what you were thinking, letting a psycho like that look after your son! Now, I'm not married," Kanchomé said, "because I'm not what you'd call a one-woman man…" Keep dreaming, buddy, thought Kiyomaro, flipping through his book on the cuneiform writings of ancient civilizations. "But, because of that, I don't have any children. …but if I did, I wouldn't leave any of them with a psycho, like _you_ did," Kanchomé finished, but then added, "Poor discretion, especially for a king, I tell you!"

"Hey!" Gash said, "Koruru is **not** a psycho! She very recently 'lost' her daughter, and her husband's in a coma! Give her a break!"

"If, by giving her a break, you mean leaving a small child in her insane care, I should say you've already done so," Kanchomé said smugly.

Gash and Kanchomé started a '_Nuh-uh!!_''_Uh-huh!!_' contest, leading Kiyomaro to further question the truth of the fact that they were both twenty-one years old. Kid returned to the room, and commenced his reading as he should have been doing all along as the arguing dragged on in the adjacent room which was home to the coffee maker.

With each nuh-uh, each uh-huh, Kiyomaro's agitation grew and grew.

Wonlei, responsible for the sorting of books, entered the large study with a huge, awkward stack of hardcover volumes looming far above his head, which must have weighed well over three-hundred pounds all together. "These," said the white-haired mamono, setting the books down, "are about everything related to cult and occult symbolism."

"Thanks," said Kiyomaro, still working on his cuneiform book, "You've got no idea how glad I am that you're actually working at this."

Wonlei frowned. "What do you mean?" He then heard the voices from the coffee room, followed by a scream from Kanchomé about spilling the scalding hot liquid on himself. "Oh."

After a few minutes, Gash and Kanchomé stopped arguing and screaming, and came back into the room, a large coffee stain on the duck-billed man's shirt.

"Well," Kanchomé said abruptly upon entering, "I'm going to take a nap… All of this stuff makes one really tired, y'know…" He yawned, stretched, and began to aim to leave the room through another door. "Wake me up when dinner is here…" he said as he ambled across the study.

This struck Kiyomaro's last nerve. All of his pent-up irritation, which had been growing and growing burst out. "Kanchomé!" he said, standing up, "We take coffee breaks to get re-energized to go back to work, not to avoid doing it! Sit down and continue your reading!"

As Kanchomé went into a fetal position on the floor, Gash dove behind a pile of books to escape Kiyomaro's finally-exploded wrath, but he'd already been targeted.

"Gash! Act your own age, for Christ's sake! It's amazing you haven't been ousted from office as King of the Makai! And _you_!" Kiyomaro shouted, turning to Brago, who had quietly sat there throughout the entire ordeal, and even before so, "You haven't picked up a single book this entire time! Even Kanchomé, who I've deemed to be functionally illiterate, unless literacy entails discerning one Hershey's product from another, has managed to struggle through the first three pages of Insignia and Monogram for Complete Retards! Whatever you're thinking about as you sit around there, stop doing it and start studying anything at all, will you!?"

Although Gash and Kanchomé were both terrified by the awesome rage of Kiyomaro, Wonlei had dropped most of the cult and occult symbolism books due to the initial shock of Kiyomaro's sudden outburst of bottled anger, and Kid's glasses had began to crack, Brago seemed to be completely and totally unphased by the yelling.

After awhile, the demon dressed in black fur spoke. "It's not my kid that's missing," he said, his tone implying he really didn't care in the least bit.

"Asshole!" Kiyomaro yelled in response, chucking the book on cuneiform across the room toward the demon. Due to Kiyomaro's tiredness, the book didn't even make it halfway to his destination, and, in addition, the aim was a bit off.

"You're laughing at me inside, aren't you?" Kiyomaro asked Brago, who slightly lifted one side of his mouth, somewhat in a smirk, to show that he indeed found Kiyomaro's book-throwing skills on the humorously lacking side. "Yeah, that's what I thought.

"Well, if tomorrow goes anything like this, I'll do as the girls at Shinyo Academy do by chalking it off as Boogiepop, and we're all going home!" Kiyomaro said. "Goodnight, I am skipping dinner and going to bed!" He grabbed three or four books from the pile that Wonlei had dropped on the floor, and stormed out of the room.

Thus ended the rampage of the sleep-deprived Kiyomaro.

"Thank God he didn't have a gun," said Gash, shivering slightly.

* * *

I hated those eyes. They surrounded me, those glowing purple eyes. Walking in the labyrinths Babylon Angel had somehow carved out from under the Siberian tundra, people, humans and demons alike, stared at me, thinking of nothing at all, except for serving the one that had them under their control – Babylon Angel. Some were normal, thank God. I was one of the few normal humans.

There was no need to manipulate me. Babylon Angel saved me, and I would do anything for him. I would do anything for the one that took me away from that hellish house, that little patch of land in England. Babylon Angel had done this, and the way I saw it, he had most absolutely saved me, not abducted me.

"Mind control," he'd said, "is a total pain to put together. I mean, it takes about five minutes to get the energy together, and then you have to get the subject to make direct eye contact. The only good thing is that it's easy to maintain, because you've actually messed with what's in them…" He paused. "You get it, right, Aston?"

"Yeah, I do," I said. "You've told me that a million times, every time a manipulated human or demon walks by."

"H-have I?!" he stuttered, his girl's face twisting into an expression which betrayed quite a bit of shock. "I'm sorry!"

Babylon Angel talked a lot, and sometimes repeated himself. It was like he always wanted to say something, to put a word in. He had a bubbly, animated personality, to say the least. It was hard to imagine him to be a 'villain', as he regularly referred to himself as, of any type or nature.

I didn't think he was evil in the least bit. Babylon Angel was kind to me. He said he liked me, he liked people like me. My parents said no one liked people like me, and no one would like me in particular. Babylon Angel said I thought a lot, so I kept to myself. My parents called me anti-social and depressing. When I told Babylon Angel that I cried, he said it was because I was suffering. When my parents saw me crying, they called me a spoiled brat.

Babylon Angel said all the things to me that I wanted to hear so badly, so desperately. I wanted to know that I was right, and my parents were oppressive tyrants who had wronged me continuously throughout the thirteen years I walked on the planet. That's why I thought he was a delusion, among other reasons. This whole world that was around me, it had to be a fantasy. Demons? Magic spellbooks? Please. Also, Babylon Angel had abducted and taken so many, so many people. So many people to choose from… yet I seemed to be his favorite, his favorite of all the humans and demons. Why me in particular? Because it was my very own personal delusion, that's why.

"Aston," he said to me, one day when we had, together, walked up to the town nearby, "Do you wanna know why I talk too much? I mean, you barely say anything, yet I keep chatting."

"Uhm," I said, "Sure." We had walked four or five miles through the tundra (as compared to the ten miles of the road that ran by about a hundred meters away from the tunnel system) up to the little town, which so conveniently sat in the middle of nowhere.

On a previous trip, I'd asked a shopkeeper why it sat so far out. He'd said there'd been a claim they found some oil buried under here, and indeed, there had been a little black gold flowing under the wasteland. People moved up and started a little town, but the oil hadn't been as bountiful as they had thought it to be. They pumped it all, and the well ran out, so a bunch of people moved away from the town. In about twenty years, everyone would have moved back to the European side of the country. Typical story, really. A bunch of towns started up in the American West in the 1800s for the same reason, only it was that sparkly yellow stuff they found in the ground, gold. Very few of the people who rushed out there struck it rich.

Must've sucked for the ones who didn't. Leaving your home, where you'd lived your entire life, confident that you would find all you ever dreamed of, and then coming up with nothing, or at least next to nothing doesn't sound to nice to me. Then again, I'm pretty sure something or the other came out of it, but I don't know what for a fact. God, I am air-headed!

"Well," Babylon Angel said as we strolled down the empty street, lined with small shops, "I kept to myself for about four thousand years, working on all sorts of magic, and other fun things that require a lot of hard practice and tons of reading, definitely best done in a well-lit room." Sometimes, Babylon Angel added seemingly useless phrases to the end of his sentences, always making them sound so very cheery. "I found out all these things, all these tiny details that I wanted to shout to the world, even if they were totally unrelated to what I was actually trying to read up on. But I didn't. I didn't even leave my place… Heck, I only got one visitor, and I didn't even want him in my house…" he broke his train of thought here. "When I rule the Makai, I can have you visit _my_ world, and show you where I lived! I left papers all over, I think…"

"I'm for it," I said. "Mind if I make a stop here?" I motioned to a snack machine which sat around the side of a small, run-down strip mall. I'd been stuffing my face ever since Babylon Angel had begun taking me to town, stuffing it with anything that had a somewhat pleasant taste. As a result, I threw up a lot more, sometimes even unintentionally. I doused myself in perfume, cheap perfume I had bought at nearby stores in order to rid myself of the smell on the spot. Along with furniture and the knee-high, red-leather steel-toed riding boots I was currently wearing, Babylon Angel had amassed a rather large amount of money through theft. He was pretty good at it, too. He'd told me a few of his methods, but I hadn't been too keen on listening, seeing as I'm pretty big on "Thou shall not steal". I didn't preach to him about it, though. I was constantly afraid of looking like an idiot, or a religious extremist. I accepted any money he offered me. What I was about to feed into the vending machine was of course among the amount he had given to me.

Babylon Angel nodded, and after setting down a plastic bag containing a paperback copy of _Breakfast of Champions_, a deck of cards, a CD Walkman, ear buds and a CD of classical music, I purchased a bag of barbeque chips from the machine. As the chips fell from their dispenser at the top, it got wedged between the glass and a Snickers bar that was leaning out from its place a slight bit.

"Ah, damn…" I muttered. I'd seen this before a few times. If I tried to buy more food to dislodge the bag of chips, it would continue to build up on top of what had already been congested lower in the machine. If I bought a heavy bag of pretzels, it would fall straight through, moving the jam-packed bags aside, but not enough to cause them to fall. The only option was shaking the machine.

I tried to shake it, but it was a fruitless venture. The glass only vibrated a bit.

Babylon Angel watched curiously, examining the problem or something. "...Can I help?" he asked after a while. "Even if I have Naoko Takamine's form, my strength is all my own."

"Sure," I said. I knew he'd get it out, it was my delusion. But… who was Naoko Takamine? I'd never heard the name, so how could it be in my head? Names of others I'd met had either been simple or European-sounding. 'Babylon Angel' sounded almost biblical. I read the Bible under my desk during religion class, so I was well acquainted with its text.

The demon clad in white walked up to the snack machine, and with one hand, lifted it and flicked his wrist a tiny bit. Everything lurched in the machine, but only the chips and the Snickers fell.

"I wish I could do that," I mused aloud. I couldn't even lift a few cookbooks. I was big in stature, but in truth, I was physically pathetic.

"You probably could. It's possible for humans to train their bodies to a point where lifting that thing would be easy. Most demons are born with superior physical strength… I guess we're lucky. But it'd take a really long time for a human to get to that point, like… ten years of hard training… and girls with that much muscle are really, really freaky, in my own personal opinion."

"Neh, I couldn't do it," I said, reaching into the bottom of the machine to retrieve the chips and the Snickers bar. "Want it?" I asked Babylon Angel, waving the candy bar about a bit.

After declining my offer, Babylon Angel asked, "Why not?"

"Well, it'd take a long time. Sure, I might improve my psychical strength quite a bit in the attempt, but you've set my hopes pretty high. Lifting a vending machine? That's not happening any time soon." I paused. I was really making this up as I went.

"Go on," Babylon Angel said, listening.

I dropped the Snickers bar and chips, which I'd decided to save for later, into my plastic bag. "I'd get discouraged. I don't know about mamono, but humans… a good deal of us, myself included, are instant gratification nowadays. Everything's so fast. The internet, transportation, television… Funding will run out on slow projects in the fields of science, and people will protest like mad if a war drags on for more than a year or two, even if it does nothing but make the protesters feel important. Most kids don't bother to pick up books anymore. Why read a novel when you can watch the movie in less than half the time?" I searched for something else to say that sounded smart, but couldn't come up with much. "It's why fast food was invented, at that. … I'm a lazy kid. There's no way I'm taking ten years to lift weights obsessively until I can easily lift the snack machine."

Babylon Angel blinked, and then smiled broadly. "I see, then!" He stretched. "Well, the workmen I've mentally-manipulated into installing the carpeting in my room should be done by now," he said. "If you're done here, would you mind going back to the Lair of Evil?"

"I wouldn't mind," I said. In truth, I had someone I really wanted to speak with, or try to, at least, back in the labyrinth of Babylon Angel's hide-out, which he now referred to as the 'Lair of Evil'. The carpet was bound to be nice, too, I suppose.

"We better get walking back, then!" Babylon Angel said, grinning broadly. As we strolled down the empty street, I could swear I heard him mutter "Instant gratification, hmmm…? I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

"_Sawao!_ I'm going to return these, okay?" Li Xiao said to me as I dug through the kitchen pantry, looking for instant ramen, the only thing I could cook, or something ready-made and packaged. "I'm going to be taking a 'walk' while I do so, so I doubt you'd want to come."

Li Xiao's 'walks' were giant, impractical loops through the winding streets of the city. Either she was letting energy out or thinking about something, she took a long time to do so.

"I'll pick up another movie, too. How does _The Blues Brothers_ sound?" she asked.

"That works," I said, lighting a cigarette, placing it in my mouth. _Mmm_… Emphysema. Now that my parents were gone, I could smoke in the house. Of course I kept the fan on at all times while doing so and thoroughly sprayed the room with Lysol when I was done. I wouldn't want the smell of smoke lingering, would I? "Pick up something we can make for dinner, too."

As Li Xiao pranced out the door, I took a puff of my cancer-stick, and set about preparing my instant ramen, realizing I'd have no company until Mal got out of the shower. Well, Demi was messing with the knobs on an old radio in the basement, still hanging onto my sister's jacket. The last time I checked, he had somehow tuned into some Korean rap station. The time before that, he'd gotten techno to play on the thing. I don't think Demi really cared what he was listening to as he continued his vigilant watch over Naoko's coat. He just spun the knob every once in a while.

Mallory showered about ten times a week, or so her mother told me. If she ever stayed in the woods overnight, Mal would rush straight to the shower after coming home. She spent a good deal of time in the bathroom in the mornings, at that. Not only did she apply make-up to cover her facial markings, but she constantly scrubbed her face to keep her complexion clear and things. (Well, I suppose pimples would look terrible on skin as pale as Mallory's…) By her tomboyish personality and the untidiness of her hair, you'd never expect her to be the type to keep such a beauty ritual, but she did.

Li Xiao, on the other hand… well, from what I could tell, she kept her daily grooming at a minimum, unless of course, she had a performance that day. In usual, however, she was a brush-hair-and-teeth and run person. She took time to pull her hair up into the two twists that sat on top of her head, but not much after that. The flamboyant Li Xiao said she 'relied entirely upon the blessing of immense natural beauty'. Whatever.

Well, I guess Li Xiao _was_ blessed in a physical way, seeing as she was pushing a D-cup at fourteen, and most girls in my class were Cs and Bs. Mallory, on the other hand, was completely flat. Completely. I remember once, when we went swimming two years ago, Li Xiao, then a large B-cup, saying if she could share with Mallory, she would, in an attempt to be funny and show off at the same time. Mallory pushed her into the pool.

Guys (well, straight ones) are supposed to look at boobs, even if the owners are his best friends, right? …Just as guys (well, straight ones, I guess) aren't supposed to spend a lot of time preening in the bathroom.

The water, audible rushing through the pipes, headed to the bathroom turned off, so I supposed Mallory was out of the shower.

As I started to microwave my instant ramen, the phone rang. I walked across the kitchen to grab it. I picked the phone up, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Takamine residence," I said as I removed my cigarette from my mouth, ready to hang up already.

"Taka-_mine_!" someone, definitely male, said into the phone, "Guess who!"

"Tamashita, maybe?" I said. I knew it was Tamashita. Only Yoshiki Tamashita pronounced my surname 'Taka-_mine_'. He was obnoxious as hell, really; he was the type that yelled out the names of reproductive organs when the teacher's back was turned during class. Ever since he (barely) made the school baseball team, Tamashita had fallen into the rather mistaken understanding that he was the Grand Overlord of All Testosterone.

"Yeah, it's me, on my cell! I managed to pick up a chick at the mall!" Everything Tamashita said seemed to end with an exclamation point, unless what he had said was a question. "When I said we could hang at your house, and that your parents weren't home, she got all excited, y'know? Guess what!"

Tamashita called me all the time like this. It was hard to imagine that he was actually fourteen… he acted like one of those stupid TV sex-addicts thrown in for shallow comic value. "She has three friends with her, all as hot as she is, and they're anxious to come over?" I answered. I'd heard it a million times.

"Nope! _Four_ friends! And they're as anxious as hell to come over to the house of the famous son of Megumi, _especially_ unsupervised! One of them has really nice…" Close enough. I heard some rather irritating giggling in the background, not really offended by that, really telling what type of girls these were.

They were the annoying, dumb, type who tried to trip and show boys their panties, and wore way too much make-up. Most of them weren't even that attractive. These girls usually wore cheap clothing which only stayed hanging on their persons because the articles were way too tight. Ninety-nine percent of the time, outside of school, their navels were showing, fifty-five percent their underwear. The strippers of tomorrow, I called them. Hey, some of them already wore glitter make-up! Most guys, myself obviously included, didn't think very highly of such girls (other girls, ranging from the geeks to the cutters to the popular ones, disliked them, too), but they were sure as hell Tamashita's type.

I cut Tamashita off. "Oh. Nice." Now, how to get rid of the titular Magistrate of Masculinity? "Listen, I have company…"

Someone picked up the phone elsewhere in the house. Someone… hmmm… Probably someone named Mallory.

"A girl?" Tamashita asked, ignoring or not noticing the receiver picking up.

"No," I said, extinguishing my cigarette and tossing it into the trash bin. Only Mallory, Demi and Li Xiao knew that I smoked. (But Demi didn't really count because he was only four.) Naoko had known, too. I didn't want to make any noises, like that of drawing in a lot of air/smoke/whatever right by the phone, or get shocked by something stupid Tamashita would eventually say, and inhale too much and going into a coughing fit.

"Someone from school? Kimura? Sakamoto? There're enough women here for them, too!" Here was the main reason I walked fast when I saw Tamashita in the hallways at school.

"No," I said again as he listed off the names of some of our classmates. Mallory dropped the receiver.

"Aww, tell me, Taka-_mine_!" Tamashita said. "It's a girl, isn't it? Day-um, you celebrity kids have all the luck! I mean, you were kissing that cute Misaki chick at Sakamoto's pool party, and Misaki… well, she's a second-year in highschool, and plays hard-to-get there, or so I've heard! And she goes and kisses a junior-high kid…you! So, how do you do it, man? I mean, you've gone out with Kyoko, Fuyuki, Akiko, Nana… a bunch of other girls, too! And all of them are on… like… everyone's hot list!"

For some reason, I felt an immense relief that Mallory was no longer listening in.

I'd gone out with and kissed plenty of girls, to tell the truth, probably the most out of any boy in my whole class. I only mildly liked these girls, who I called my girlfriends. I told the ones I'd been treating to fast food for over a month that I loved them. I just acted like a normal teenager. I never saw myself, throwing around the words 'I love you', as shallow, because everyone did it. I found fourteen far too young for the whole love deal for me. (Not for my parents, though, apparently.) Then again, I'd never really considered anyone to be that special in that sort of way. But saying 'I love you' to a few girls I thought were sort of nice and maybe pretty, and then waiting for a reason to break up and getting on with my life wasn't hurting anyone at all, not myself, not them. No one was actually serious about dating in junior-high, anyways.

"Aw, well, I have to go, see ya," I said, cutting Tamashita off before he could say anything else stupid 'n' (more than likely) perverted, and hanging up.

The microwave beeped, telling me that my instant ramen was ready to be eaten. Before I could retrieve the cup of noodles, Mallory strode into the kitchen, and stopped the beeping noise of the microwave by opening it up and checking inside. She shrugged, and said something on the lines of 'I guess it'll do.' The girl then removed _my_ ramen, and put it down on the table, although it was more thank likely incredibly hot. Instead of fumbling with chopsticks, utensils Mallory was unable to use, she took a small sliver fork out from a plastic bag she was carrying in the pocket of the long black skirt she wore, and with it began to eat _my_ noodles. Mallory paid me no heed, until she spoke to me.

"Sawao. I apologize for listening in on your phone call," she said, curtly between bites. Mallory didn't even look up at me as she said this.

"I don't really care at all. You should be sorry for eating my food," I grumbled in response.

She didn't seem to hear me. "I thought it might have been your father calling," she said, somewhat absently.

"My father?" I asked her, "What do you want with my father?"

"Just never mind," she said, in a tone that on its own said, '_Did I say that aloud?_' Mallory turned to stare at me, before stating harshly, "This place reeks of smoke. How many times have I told you to stop screwing up your lungs?"

I shrugged. "I'll get around to quitting, sometime."

She raised an eyebrow at me, almost disappointed at me, and turned her attention back to her meal.

….I couldn't help but think I should have said something else.

* * *

_Kono hoshi no hashikko de miageru taiyou…_

Who doesn't love the BP:P ending theme? As far as the song goes, it's among my favorite anime endings. …Whatever.

Okay, I know this story is indeed terrible. (And long. Takes up about twelve- thirteen pages on Word without the author's note. The story portion of this is like… 5,850 words. With the author's note, it goes over 6,200.) Kudos for bothering to read it, and even the author's note. –thumbs up-

Aaaanyhow, I know there are a lot of OCs in this. The good news is that all but two who will be playing any part at all in this have been mentioned or introduced. (Oh, and there's one that's pretty much implied.) And those two are some of my favorite characters I've ever created, so, yeah.

…I had to put in that thing about Big Boing getting breast implants. I HAD to, I'm telling you!

But it is so obvious who Teo's bookkeeper is going to be, it's not even funny. I'm doing what we all expect.

And, as I've said, I am so giving Kiyomaro a good night's sleep so he can cease to be a sleep-deprived nutcase. 'Thank God he didn't have a gun!'

And I intended for Vieve and Sawao to think the same thing about dating. I didn't forget it had already been said.

So, **review**, or sleep-deprived Kiyomaro will come after you!


	5. Mother's Day

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* * *

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March of the God

**Chapter 5: Mother's Day**

-dramatic pose- This chapter title is not that of a pillows song.

It's actually the name of an episode of Boogiepop Phantom (Episode 6, to be exact), but I would have called it 'Mother's Day' regardless. If you read, it'll be easy to find out why…. : P And this doesn't take place on Mother's Day, so that isn't why.

Meh. Spot the (other) Boogiepop reference (aside from the title) if you dare. God, I am the rip-off queen! …Well, at least I'm not as bad as Christopher Paolini…

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my OCs, foo. I'd be rich if I owned more, and I'm not. I live in my parents' basement, and my greatest fear is that when I turn eighteen, I'll have to move out.

Today, we start with Aston, then we have some third person, and then we have Sherry, more third person, then we have your mom.

Uh, forget that last one. Now, for something completely different! -/Monty Python-

* * *

…_keep in mind, as he wrote, as a unifying idea, a hero's search for a father. It seems to me that really truthful American novels would have the heroes and heroines alike looking for _**mothers**_, instead, _wrote American novelist Kurt Vonnegut in his novel, _Breakfast of Champions_.

I loved the book. I wish I could have met Kurt Vonnegut, that I could have hopped the Atlantic Ocean to meet him. But he's up in heaven now, so that wouldn't be possible.

I guess his statement applied to real-life English school-kids, too, not just the heroes and heroines of American novels. I don't know if I'm exactly _looking_ for another mother, but I do want one.

Mothers, they're the ones you cry to. At least, that's what I could tell from the things I've read.

I'd like another mother, a better one than I had before. Someone who (as I've mentioned) I'd be able to cry to without embarrassment or being scolded, that would be nice. Someone who'd be a good recourse, and not just say 'You screwed up, now fix it,' and go back to doing whatever she'd been doing before. The mother I'd like, I think, would be someone strong, someone kind, but not too sweet, someone at least moderately intelligent, and most importantly, someone who paid enough attention to my problems and understood at least a bit of what I was going through, basically someone who I'd never be close enough with to tell her what I thought.

Hell, on second thought, I wouldn't care if this mother was a woman or not, as long as they _acted_ as a mother on some level.

I'd refer to myself with this mother's last name, I think, so I wouldn't be Aston Martin, like the goddamn car, anymore.

The mother that I was born to helped name me like that. ...My mother yelled a lot when she drank, too. But there's nothing new with yelling.

She went to Alcoholic's Anonymous. I guess that was a good thing.

When she totally sobered up, she began to complain a lot, especially about me. Her words could be taken as compliments by the stupid, but 'could' was the problem. "You _could_ be so pretty, if only you spent more time on your hair." "You _could_ be so good at sports, if only you practiced harder." "You _could_ be at the top of your class, if only you studied longer." I was wasting all my talents, she said. I didn't want to use these talents I supposedly had, particularly. I liked being who I was, doing what I did, not striving to be the best all the time.

Something was wrong with me, my mother decided.

When she looked at me, I could tell she was thinking the same thing she said to me about a bum on the streets, probably using what precious little money he had to buy some low-grade dope.

"That used to be someone's baby one day," she had said. "Some mother looked into his eyes and put all of her hopes and dreams about the future into that baby. How sad."

_**You **__used to be __**my**__ baby. I looked into your eyes and put all of __**my**__ hopes and dreams about the future into __**you. **__**What's the matter with you?!**_

I don't think that's a good mother, a good parent.

I think I'd be a terrible mother. Maybe who I could be would be a good mother, but not who I am. I'm never pleased with the result of any venture I take, so what would be different about a child? I'd be my mother over again.

I don't miss my mother at all, and I doubt she really misses me.

I wondered if my new partner's mother missed her. The little demon girl with silvery pink hair, whose spellbook I could read… was she taken from her mother? I tried asking her about her family once.

"Permission to speak," I said.

"Ah… o-o-ok…ay." The girl's words were slow, and it was as if she had forgotten how to speak, and was struggling to recall how to move the mouth and tongue to do so, to even muster the force to make noise. The ones Babylon Angel had manipulated took orders from their un-manipulated partners, assuming they had one. Otherwise, they reported directly to Babylon Angel himself. He had even gone so far as to restrict their speech, even if their speech was something determined by him. I didn't think about Babylon Angel doing this at all. He just did it. It wasn't odd. It wasn't wrong. After all, he didn't screw with the kids enough to have them not like candy, as I saw when I watched my partner eat the Snickers bar I had brought her from town.

Babylon Angel was too _nice_ to be evil, no matter what he did. When he spoke of death and killing, it sounded innocent and even warm, as if he were talking about kittens or something of the like.

"What's your name?" I asked her, attempting to put an amiable tone into my voice. It probably didn't work all too well.

"I-I… don't really k-know."

"Where are you from? What about your family?"

"I-I-I d…o-uh-uh-on't r-r-re…mem-embe…r my…f-fami-mi…l-l-l-ly. O-or…an-y…th…ing-ing at-a…ll," the girl had said.

Sometimes, her stammering and pauses got to the point of being absolutely unintelligible babble. "You're going to have to say that again," I said to her. And with almost perfect precision, she imitated the movements her mouth had gone through a moment before in a smoother and more fluent fashion, which begot a much more comprehensible result.

"I-I don't remember my family. Or anything at all," the girl said in an almost brusque fashion, as if she were a trained soldier answering to a drill sergeant. She looked up at me with her dully glowing purple eyes, under which two lines ran down each cheek. Purple, the eyes, and pink, the color of this girl's hair and clothing usually went well together, but the bleak emptiness of the mauve that filled the girl's eyes looked terrible. It looked terrible with anything, really.

Bright purple, I thought, like the decorative beads which were on the ties that held this girl's hair in two short ponytails on either side of the back of her head would look nice. Purple eyes were a possibility for demons, right? If pink hair existed in the gene pool, so would purple eyes. (Looking at the mamono walking around and their hair colors is almost like watching that Japanese animation stuff. Blue, purple, green, fiery red, you name it.) Blue eyes, I think, would be a nice match to the girl, too, or maybe a pale green. If they were pink, there would be too much of the color, and too much pink is _never_ a good thing.

Pink hair's pretty exciting in itself, I think.

Auburn and grey. I was sure a thrill with the hair/eye-color match-up. At least my hair wasn't brown (kind of way-too-normal, if you ask me), or blonde. I'd look hideous as a blonde. Blonde hair's overrated, anyways.

Later, on a trip to town, in which I took my partner, I asked Babylon Angel about his old hair and eye-color, before he had taken on the appearance of this Naoko Takamine. I didn't have enough guts to talk to him about his family.

"Well, I had really dark black hair and really, really bright blue eyes," he said. "In the face, I was really, really, really quite handsome, if I do say so myself." He smiled at me, almost proudly. Honestly, it was hard to imagine Babylon Angel as an adult male. A young boy, I could see him as, although the form of a ten-year-old girl really did suit him the best. "But the magic I used required me to take the form of my would-be bookkeeper, so… yeah.

"I had a symbol like this one, too," he said, pointing to the distorted letter B on his left cheek.

"Uh, yeah… why is that there now? I'm sure that Naoko girl didn't have a marking there," I said. "We humans just get tattoos for that sort of thing, and what kid that age has a tattoo?" I actually figured it was a loophole in the spell— like how in the movies sometimes someone in the body of another still has their own voice.

"You're right!" he said. "I drew this on with a Sharpie marker!"

As expected of Babylon Angel. I walked holding the hand of the small pink-haired demon, who I could not at all think of a suitable name to call. I had to call her something, didn't I? I was thinking Blanche, seeing as she had an awfully light skin tone to go with her silvery pink hair, but Blanche sounded too old for her. I thought it was name for those over thirty. As taciturn as she was at the time, she had a cute, immature air built in to her round face and large eyes which were easy to imagine overflowing with childish laughter. Definitely not Blanche.

"Of course I took a really long time to outline the area in a facial pencil that I can wash off, because I'd hate to have the unwanted remnants of a Sharpie on my face for a good while, seeing as they're called 'permanent markers'. But the name doesn't hold true on skin. They'd be 'three-day markers', but I guess that isn't very catchy-sounding." Babylon Angel said, doing a quick round-off over a rock. "So of course I have to reapply the marker every few days…."

To avoid the same rock, I dropped the girl's hand, and it flopped to her side. She'd make no effort to lift it, almost like she had no muscle control whatsoever. …and how was that good for this fighting Babylon Angel spoke of…? I then bent down a little to pick it up again.

"Because, you know, without it, I really don't feel like me, especially looking like this and all…"

I really did sense him getting distant, almost doleful, at the end of this, so I decided to say something stupid and tease him to finish his sentence in some sort of attempt to raise his spirit.

"…When you cross-dress?" I asked, smiling a bit. This was how I acted by my school-friends, the friends I left behind. Sometimes I missed them, usually I didn't.

"No!" he said, raising his lower lip. "I dress to suit the body, I tell you, even if it does mean wearing a skirt!"

"Mhhm-hmm, right," I said, facetiously, and then following it up with a slight chuckle.

"Y'know," Babylon Angel said, "That's the first time I can recall hearing you laugh! Do it again, only louder!"

"How am I supposed to make myself laugh?" I asked.

"Pillsbury Doughboy style!" he replied, poking me in the stomach. This caused me to crack up, and drop the girl's hand again. "I've watched my share of commercials, too, you know!"

It was so hard to be down about anything around Babylon Angel. I wished I were that sort of person, I really did. My thoughts floated back to mothers, good mothers— encouraging, warm.

But Babylon Angel… he just wasn't at all a mother. No, he was more of a friend, someone you hung out with, not someone you looked up to. Overall, he was too carefree, I thought. No worries at all. Not a mother, definitely not a mother.

* * *

Teo Bell figured he'd get incredibly sick if he stayed out any longer, maybe even die from the unbearable coldness in his otherwise numb fingers and toes.

Even if the rain had stopped, Teo was still wet, and still rather miserable. He wanted his mommy, his daddy, a warm bath, smelling, possibly, of sweetly scented soaps, and his nice bed in the palace of the Makai. And now, Teo was becoming hungry. His belly growled every few minutes to remind him of this, even when he hunched over in attempt to ease the pangs of his empty stomach.

The people on the street scared Teo. They all walked so fast, and a lot of them seemed so unhappy. The ones that did notice Teo all looked on in alarm, as if there was something wrong with him. Teo didn't like this. Every time a lady gasped, or a man jumped at the sight of the lone boy, wet and dirty, Teo felt terrible, and attempted to hurry his pace. He could never keep it up for long, and soon fell back into the same slow shuffle he had been traveling at before.

Teo was particularly afraid of the haggard people dressed in dirty clothes that haunted the alleyways and street corners, all slumped over and all looking just as miserable as him. Teo feared that he would get lost in Ningenkai forever, and he would end up like them.

Teo didn't know where he was going; he had no idea of his destination. He thought that if he kept walking, he would simply arrive at a very nice place. So he simply trudged on, reaching for this somewhat abstract want of his.

Ahead, the boy saw a small park, a plaza, a place to rest his feet and possibly to rest his mind in sleep. Book wrapped in his arms, Teo trudged towards the area, which even had some nice flowerbeds, grass, and a fountain. The thought that the grass he planned to rest upon was probably wet crossed Teo's mind once or twice as he made his way to the square, but he knew he was as wet as he could possibly get, and didn't particularly care.

When he reached his destination, Teo plopped down, almost face-first in the grass, and instantly began to doze.

"Ah, bums are getting younger and younger these days, hmmm?" The blonde boy had not even begun to nod off when a voice interrupted his little catnap.

"Well," it continued, now directly addressing Teo, "you might be an alien sent to judge mankind, so I better be nice to you, huh?"

Teo looked up at the over of the voice, a young woman dressed in traditional Chinese clothing with big, warm, brown eyes and hair that seemed to be salt-and-pepper, only much younger and brighter than salt-and-pepper. Most of her bangs hung in front of her right eye, the rest of her hair pulled into two twists at the back of her head.

She crouched down with great ease to examine Teo, and easily took the red book from his tired arms. "What's this…" she said, and then added, "…little mamono-boy?" with a grin.

"Y-you… k-know who— _what_ I-I am?" Teo squeaked, attempting to get up from his position of lying belly-down on the grass. The words were the first to escape his lips in a while, wavering and weak.

"Mmm-hmm. It's not too hard to tell with those markings on your cheek, and the book… Now, why, mamono-boy," she said, "are you in Ningenkai?"

"R-rue… I have to save Rue!" Teo said with more force than he intended in his voice, trying desperately to stand up in front of this girl.

"Calm down, calm down!" the girl said, poking Teo's forehead gently. This gave the boy a feeling she was not taking this at all seriously.

He wondered if he should state that he was the prince of the mamono, the king's very own son. If this girl knew about the demons and the two worlds, of Makai and Ningenkai, she'd probably at least heard of the King, right? He'd gotten out of a few situations back home in the Makai that way, but he also had been beaten up (usually by demons in makeshift masks) for declaring his status to some people. Maybe she was against the King, and would create more problems by kidnapping him and holding him hostage. People had tried before, so Teo was indeed suspicious of such things. Seeing as he was in public, and chances were someone around would notice an attempt at abduction, Teo decided to take the chance.

"I," he said, trying to sound as important and princely as he possibly could, "am Prince Teo, the son of the Makai's King, Gash Bell." Teo put as much emphasis on each word as he could muster. "I need a place to rest! Would you be kind enough to let me into your home for at least one night?"

Teo thought he had done a very good job of making himself sound mighty and royal, but the fact that the girl began to laugh loudly totally shattered that opinion.

"Funny… funny…!" the young woman said, "but seeing as you're King Blondie's kid, I guess we'll have to let you stay by us!"

Teo blinked. Did she know his father…? "Come on," the girl continued. "You can get up on your own, right?"

Teo made an attempt to push himself up so he could get onto his feet and stand. He tried a few more times in a few more ways, each time failing miserably in his endeavors. His fruitless struggles caused the young woman to frown slightly. "I'll take that as a no…"

With this, the girl offered him one of her hands to help him stand up, which Teo was far more than happy to take.

* * *

I always wanted to be a different type of parent than my mother was. I always wanted to be a good mother, even before having children was a possibility for me.

My mother, the one who I had aspired _not_ to be like, always told me that I was a failure, expecting me to be perfect because I was the heiress of the Belmond family. But I wasn't. I wasn't what my mother wanted, and because of this, I so often felt terrible as a child, and eventually drove me to attempt suicide.

Around age twenty, maybe a little earlier, I had decided that it was not I who was the failure, but my mother. I came to see through my own motherhood experience that she had failed in her duties— she was not fit for the title of 'mother'. (It was probably due to the outside guidance of Koko and my butler, Jii, that I don't have some huge mental problem where I have to go out to see a therapist every other day.)

Mothers, I decided, should love their children the way they are, and be accepting of their faults, all the while trying to gently help fix their child's problems. Mothers should do their best to allow their children to have a pleasant childhood.

Maybe it was because I was so young when I had Mallory that I often felt incompetent and irresponsible as a parent, I really don't know. But these feelings came often, especially when my daughter broke something intentionally, or when Brago had to hit her to control her behavior. I wondered if I was failing, too, in a different way than my own mother had.

As Mallory grew older, these thoughts subsided, and by the time she was ten, they were entirely gone. Make no mistake, she was still a rather immature girl, but she'd quieted down and become more agreeable.

Then I had Demi. It was the opposite with him. The older he got, the more evident the problem with him got, the more I began to worry about him— and the more I began to question if I really was fit to be a mother. I was always worried that it was my fault as a parent that Demi didn't talk often, that he didn't show emotion, or even cry when he got hurt. It had to be my fault in _some_ way.

It never seemed to right itself, even for a few moments, as Mallory's behavioral problems often did for a few hours each day until she found something new to disagree with. Things like that worried me all the time.

Another thing about being a mother for almost fifteen years is that it completely saps your sense of humor about certain things.

For instance, not only I, but Li Yen and Megumi, who over time, I had become friends with due to the friendship of our children, found no source of amusement at all in the story of Kiyomaro finally snapping about the lack of research in our _research_ group. We were all, for the most part, worried about the poor man.

In fact, Megumi immediately ran up to the guest room where the two were staying to make sure he was okay as soon as she heard the story, and was quite relieved to find him asleep.

Everyone had different opinions on Kiyomaro's rampage, but it was usually described as 'funny' and 'scary' by the people who had seen it.

It was called 'funny' mostly by those looking at it in an afterthought, because out of the five people in the room, two had been terrified, two had been shocked, and one, my very own husband, found it slightly amusing.

I was actually slightly mad at Brago because of this. Kiyomaro had lost his daughter and…

Lost her. Usually, that word means that one would have died, and would never come back. But Naoko, she was only missing, right? At times, I wondered. My son, Demi, called Naoko 'gone'. Gone for now, or gone for good? It could be either. I didn't like to think about it.

No clear reason had come up for the girl's disappearance, so does that mean that any child could just disappear like that?! What if something like that happened to Demi, or Mallory? Just imagining something like that happening to one of your own children is terrible… so I can only imagine how hard it might be on Kiyomaro and Megumi to have it actually happen.

I'd had a friend taken from me before, but never a child… And quite honestly, it made me almost angry that anyone could consider messing around in a time where one has lost a child and is attempting to find a way to get her back.

Nothing was funny about a man getting rightfully angry over something, and even those who had no mothering experience would agree that nothing at all is funny about a man infamous for singing about groping the breasts of innocent, unsuspecting women asking you if your daughter is eighteen yet.

* * *

"It was just a joke!" Parco Folgore said, waving his arms as he sat up on the ground where he had fallen. "Really! I meant nothing by it, I swear! I know she's fourteen, like Sawao and Li Xiao! It was meant to make you laugh!"

"For a joke, it wasn't very funny," Sherry said irritably. She wished it had been someone else who had answered the door and had to put up with the Italian actor. Sherry had barely ever had a conversation with the man before, and already was developing a burning desire to hurt him.

She'd already delivered a well-deserved kick to the superstar's cheek, and was considering locking him out of the house, even though the estate did not belong to her.

"You've already made yourself unwelcome here with your perversity, huh? Even for you, that's a new record," said Kiyomaro Takamine, who had just gotten out of bed. It was just past noon, and after his mad sleep-deprived rampage of the night before, he had slept like a rock from the moment he got into bed. Just as he was ready to come downstairs and get back to the books, he just had to see Folgore, his _favorite_ person in the world.

"Why is everyone so harsh on me?" Folgore asked, standing up and brushing himself off. "I was just trying to lighten up the mood around here! From the phone-call I got, you all sounded too serious!"

"That's because my daughter is missing," Kiyomaro said crossly. "I know you don't understand how a parent might feel in a situation like this, seeing as you don't have any legitimate children…"

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry!" Folgore said. "I only meant to…"

"Just go before you say anything else stupid," Sherry said, traces of annoyance lingering in her voice. "The study is out the door of the living room, up the stairs and down the hallway to the left. If you want to get to the houses library, someone in the study will more than likely give you directions."

The Italian celebrity quickly scurried off in the direction Sherry had dictated, rubbing the cheek that had received the kick.

Kiyomaro shook his head. "God, that guy is annoying… but Gash had to insist upon inviting him 'because', I quote, 'he and Kanchomé have been fighting beside us as friends for a long time'…" He sighed. "All as I can see of this is Folgore being one huge distraction to this whole thing…"

"Aren't there already enough distractions around here?" Sherry asked him, seeming to be in much better humor than she was when speaking to Folgore.

"Yeah, I'm thinking of demanding that Nazo Nazo Hakase get rid of the coffee room. The problem with that is that a few people actually want to get coffee there, and don't abuse the privilege…" Kiyomaro said.

There were a few moments of silence. "Kiyomaro," Sherry said, "I haven't really had the chance to say this yet, but I'm sorry about Naoko."

"You don't need to be," Kiyomaro said, blinking. "You're not the kidnapper, I should hope."

"Still, I'd have to offer my condolences…" said the woman. "Is that phrasing it better?"

"I guess it is," Kiyomaro responded. "Why now, all of a sudden, though? This is barely the first time we've been in the same room."

"It's nothing," Sherry said, "but I've been getting this feeling…" She paused, as if she'd decided her statement was best left unsaid. "Never mind. It's just that I can't possibly imagine how hard this is on you and your family, and… well…"

"You must be a good mother, hmm?" Kiyomaro said, seemingly out of the blue.

"Huh?!" Sherry seemed a little shocked. "What makes you say that?"

"No offense or anything, but your husband's an ass," Kiyomaro said, bitterly(?) recalling the night before, "you're a good person, and your kids have somehow turned out alright. Not that I've really talked to your son before, but Mallory's a good kid."

"Well, in some cases, I would argue that your first point is true," Sherry said. "But I'm glad you think so about Mallory…"

"Well," Kiyomaro said, "Why wouldn't I? She's polite, and doesn't cuss or anything." Sherry raised her eyebrows at his second point, but Kiyomaro didn't notice. "She's a smart girl, too. Well, we better get back to work…" he said, turning to go to up to the study.

Sherry stood there after him for a few seconds, taking in his previous statement, but she too soon began to make her way to the study.

* * *

…anyone who thinks that last part was KiyomaroxSherry is smoking something and should be sent to rehab. Cause I know of people who will think things like that. Sheesh, just because they have a conversation… That pairing irritates me. Whatever.

**Review**, children, or you just might find out that Bigfoot is indeed very real… and very, very violent.


	6. Childhood

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* * *

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March of the God

**Chapter 6: Childhood**

Reporting from my room, I am. That's where the laptop I use to type this lives. I'm grounded… Again!

Enjoy teh chapter. And yes, the 'teh' there was indeed intentional.

I really do think that this chapter isn't good at all… But it's really, really, really long. It was over twenty pages in Word, and 9,012 words not counting the A/N.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! Ooh, and I'm probably dropping the pillows song titles, because I keep coming up with great chapter names, like this one.

And we also get these long, detailed accounts of past lives of one or two of my OCs. I hope I did not do to you what that one Anne Rice novel did to me. But we're going to get more of these in later chapters for more characters, trust me. RUN AWAY, RUN AWAY!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own KnGB or anything I've thrown into this (like the Smurfs and Narnia 'n' everything else, dang all Li Xiao's random references, ohh, and Monty Python, the genius of which comes up in this chapter quite a bit), so don't file a lawsuit, kay? But my OCs are my own, and you'll be beaten to death with an orange in a sock if you attempt to steal any of them.

* * *

Teo, at first, thought it was a picture of him which rested on the chest of drawers that helped furnish the front-room. He stared up at the photograph which was propped up next to where his red book and a plastic shopping bag rested as he stood dripping in the middle of the floor, waiting for the young woman, now known to be named Li Xiao, who had allowed him to come into the house, which she claimed not to own. She was sure taking a while, Teo thought as he dripped on the rug, wrapped in a towel. No longer was he wet with authentic rain water and the grime that was gathered on the curb, interrupted in its swirling flow towards the drains by a car splashing it up on passersby, but in the fragrant, soapy water that he had been doused in while taking a nice long shower.

Someone had been in the shower recently before him, Teo could tell. A bottle of soap or two was knocked over, and droplets left behind sprinkled the floors and the walls of the cubicle. Not that he had minded, though. His main problem (which was completely trivial in comparison to how great the warm shower felt) was that he wasn't nearly tall enough to reach the dial, and had to stand on a little platform for soaps and wash towels to adjust the temperature of the water.

Teo, as he had left the shower, had examined his surroundings thoroughly. He was in a pleasant, comfortable house, a big one compared to the ones he passed as he had made his way through the suburbs into the city, but it was miniscule compared to the palace which he lived in back in the Makai.

The Takamine family owned the house, Li Xiao had said. Teo figured that he had heard the name 'Takamine' before, probably from his parents, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what they had been talking about.

Teo stared at the picture a while more, comparing one of the two boys in it to himself. They were both standing in front of a house, one that looked like it was from the suburbs that Teo had walked through. It looked like a nice little house, though, and the two in the photograph seemed happy enough living there, assuming that was where they lived at the time the photo was taken. One of the boys was a teenager with dark hair and brown eyes, but it was the younger one, a beaming boy of six, and a child in the truest sense, that Teo's attention was directed at.

Like Teo, the boy had blonde hair cut in the exact fashion Teo's was, and bore a striking semblance to him in the face. But unlike the photograph's little boy's amber eyes, Teo had orange eyes. The markings on this boy's face were different from the young prince's: the lines that marked Teo face started an inch under his eyes, and ran down his cheeks until about an inch from the edge of his jaw bone, whereas the boy's lines ran from the very bottom of his eyes to his cheeks.

That boy, Teo thought, that boy in the photo looked familiar. Almost like a younger version of his father… "Dad…?" Teo mouthed aloud.

"Something wrong?" Li Xiao asked, tossing Teo a black shirt and pants, and a pair of very dark blue young boy's briefs. "The pants and the shirt might be too small, 'cause they belong to a kid younger than you, but the underpants will probably fit well, seeing as they're Sawao's old ones from when he was your age."

Teo looked at the garments he had received. He had already figured they belonged to two very differently sized people, seeing as the briefs would so easily fit over the pants. The young prince was glad that the underwear and the pants happened to be in similar colors, because he knew the briefs would protrude from over the top of them.

Teo left the room momentarily to dress, because he had learned from his princely etiquette instructor that he was never to present himself naked in front of anyone if he could help it, especially a lady, and dressing would require shedding the towel which covered him.

"Thanks, b-but… where are my other clothes?" Teo asked as he returned to the room, staring down at the black pants and shirt he was wearing.

"Sitting in front of my hair-dryer," Li Xiao said. "I didn't know how well the washing machine would like that rock or whatever-it-is that was tacked onto the front of your shirt." As she spoke, she leaned back against the chest of drawers next to the picture Teo had been observing. "So I cleaned them off in the kitchen sink using Mrs. Takamine's bath soap. Your clothes should smell like strawberry-kiwi now." She ruffled Teo's hair, still damp from his shower and disheveled from being dried with the towel, in a friendly and sibling-like manner. "But there's a rip in the hem of your pants, and I have no idea how to sew…"

Teo blinked. A rip…? When was his clothing ripped? He had taken enough falls and gotten caught on enough places to damage his clothing, that was for sure, but he couldn't remember when, exactly, something tore. He'd definitely not have felt it, or even heard it, seeing as he was completely numb as he had walked, and had been almost deafened by the sounds of the city. "Oh…" he said.

"You seem… well… depressed, to put it mildly," Li Xiao said. As Teo was about to speak about why exactly he was in Ningenkai, and why he figured he had a right to be upset, Li Xiao interrupted him "Jeez, this place can be such a downer when we have Angst-Muffin and the Children of the Creature from the Emo Lagoon here… Now you, too? Chipper up!"

Teo, honestly, was quite confused with this statement. What did angst have to do with muffins? What did 'emo' mean? There were other people in the house aside from Li Xiao? But he had another question to ask. "That's a picture of my dad, right?" he asked, pointing to the photo which sat upon the chest of drawers.

She nodded. "Yep. That's him, King Blondie. You know, the owner of this house, Mr. Takamine, was your father's book-reader! That's pretty weird that you met someone who ended up taking you here!" Li Xiao smiled broadly.

Teo jumped slightly. "R-really?! That's so cool!" Teo said, somewhat excited and in much better spirits because of this revelation. "And then… was Mrs. Takamine my mom's book-reader?" Teo asked. He had heard from his mother that her human partner she and Teo's father's partner had gotten married…

"Yup," Li Xiao said. "You know, I bet Angst-Muffin… well, his real name's Sawao… could read this. You're the kid of the King and the Queen, and he's the kid of their book-readers… It could very well work!"

Teo smiled. "Really?! That's _amazing_! But Li Xiao, how do you know about the mamono, and the Makai? You live here in Ningenkai, so you're a human, right?"

"Half-right," Li Xiao said.

"What half is right?" Teo asked, blinking.

"Half of the human part. I'm only half human," she answered.

"The other half is mamono, isn't it?" Teo said, his question sounding like more of a statement. "It is, isn't it?!"

"Nope, it's _Smurf_!" she said, giggling. "Okay, I'm part mamono."

Before Teo could question what one of these 'Smurfs' was, a girl with untidy dark hair and pale skin, about Li Xiao's age, walked into the room, a leather-bound book in hand. "I thought I heard you talking to someone," she said. "Who's the kid, and why's he in my brother's clothes?"

"This," Li Xiao said, turning to Teo, "is the wonderful prince Teo of Narnia, also known as the Makai. He's the King's kid, of course."

The pale girl, who had a somewhat unlikable mien, crouched down to look Teo in the eye. She was shorter than Li Xiao, Teo observed, and not nearly as pretty. Judging by her ashen skin tone, Teo figured that she was deathly sick, and seeing that he just_ knew _that his immune system had been destroyed by his wandering about in the rain and had not recovered, the boy was for a moment frightened that he might catch something and die.

"Hm. Are you really?" she inquired quietly but curtly, a tiny smile creeping onto her face, which Teo did not like.

"You're a demon, aren't you?!" Teo asked, stepping backwards.

She blinked, obviously surprised. "I'm wearing make-up, how could you tell? Can you sense it?!"

Teo shook his head. "N-no, it's just that you're… well… well..." He groped around in the recesses of his mind to find a nice, polite word for 'mean', 'threatening', 'too evil-looking to be human', and 'prone to eat young children'.

The girl grimaced. "Tch… Spit it out," she said almost meanly, narrowing her eyes.

"And, Oh-Wonderful-Prince-of-Narnia, meet Mood-Swing Mallory, the Child of the Creature from the Emo Lagoon. And she's half-mamono, like me. But don't get a bad impression of us half-mamono from her, not all of us eat babies."

"Shut up, Li Xiao," Mallory said, turning her head toward the taller girl, standing up and straightening out her long skirt.

"All of us, all of you…" Teo whispered, "Does that mean that there are more of you?" Teo asked in a louder voice, looking up at the two.

"Well, Mallory's brother," Li Xiao said. "But we're it, as far as we know."

There was a short silence after this, which Mallory broke. "What movies did you get?" she asked the other half-mamono.

"_The Pirates Movie_, which is said to be the worst musical ever, _The Blues Brothers_, which is made of awesome, some super-old black-and-white vampire flick that looks really corny, one of those rated-R adrenaline-packed action movies with loads of explosions, and_ Life of Brian_," Li Xiao answered.

"Who's Brian?" Teo asked, figuring that this Brian must be someone very interesting and important to have a movie made about his life.

"Oh, you'll find out," Li Xiao said.

"However did you get your hands on rated-R material?" Mallory asked, leaning back on the chest of drawers. "Don't they make you have a parent-or-guardian approval if you check out anything over PG-13?"

"In a way that one such as you who only wears a bra because fourteen-year-olds should wear one can never understand," Li Xiao said proudly, arching her back slightly to flaunt her chest.

Mallory blinked, and then her eyes widened, possibly in horror. "Do you have any pride at all?!" Mallory shouted, standing up straight and smacking Li Xiao, who let out a tiny laugh as she rubbed her head where she had been hit.

"Yes, yes I do. I have a lot to be proud of, whereas you have _nothing_," Li Xiao said, patting one of her breasts.

Teo, who understood none of it, just blinked, but found it awfully mean of Mallory to punch Li Xiao for stating that she couldn't understand something.

"Quit it! You're disturbing the kid," Mallory said, pointing at Teo, who, due to being six and henceforth rather naïve, was not at all disturbed. "And, quite honestly, you're disturbing me, and I've seen some pretty weird shit here and there."

Teo wasn't used to cussing, and had been taught by his etiquette instructor that he should never, ever do it, at least until he was eighteen, and even then to keep it at a minimum. Also, the instructor had told Rue, Teo's favorite playmate and constant companion, about how girls were to never, ever, ever to curse. Teo knew that from time to time when she got very, very angry, his mother would disobey this rule say something like 'damn', usually while telling off his father, the King of the Makai for doing something she considered dumb. But his mother wasn't a princess and hadn't learned her manners properly, so she couldn't be blamed for it at all.

Teo, on the other had, had, and was quite sensitive to the subject of language. Even 'the d-word' and 'the h-word' startled Teo, so hearing something like 'shit' caused him to jump and cover his ears.

"Please don't say that word… It's not polite," Teo said.

"I'm not trying to be polite," Mallory said. Teo was beginning to _really_ dislike her, and decided to try and change her attitude, which was quite grating even to one as young as himself.

"I know you're not!" Teo replied. "You're not trying to be nice, either, are you? Well, because you're part mamono, I'd be your prince, and I _command_ you to be nice to me, Li Xiao and everyone else!"

Mallory blinked, somewhat taken aback, and was quiet for a moment, causing Teo to feel very proud, triumphant and powerful.

This feeling of pride, power and triumph, however, was short-lived, seeing as Mallory began to laugh so hard that she clutched her stomach and leaned against the wall with her free hand for support to prevent herself from doubling over as she overflowed with demeaning laughter. Demeaning, that was, to the one that it was directed at.

Although a more steadfast prince might have issued his command again, poor Teo was completely disheartened by this. He wished that it was this girl who had kidnapped Rue, so that when he found his bookkeeper, he could attack her. He looked at his feet.

"Mallory, maybe you should lay off the kid," Li Xiao said, turning to the girl clad in black, who was getting over her laughing fit.

"Okay, okay," Mallory said as she wiped a tear which had been brought forth by her mirth, still chuckling as she spoke. She smiled broadly for a moment, displaying her pointed canine teeth. "Sorry."

"Well, I'm going to ask Sawao if he knows how to work a sewing machine or knows anywhere around here that we can get Teo here's pants mended," Li Xiao said. "He tore them on the way here."

"I actually know how to sew," Mallory said, "with a needle and with a sewing machine," she said. "I'm pretty sure Kiyomaro's mother has one…"

"You mean Sawao's grandmother, right?" Li Xiao asked, and Mallory nodded in response.

"Yeah. Where's his clothing at?" Mallory asked, pointing at Teo with a darkly colored nail.

"Oh, they're in the guest bedroom," Li Xiao said. "The one I'm staying in."

With that, Mallory walked up the stairs, and left the room.

"Heh," Li Xiao said, "to think that the infamous Mallory Belmond knows how to sew."

Teo nodded. The girl didn't seem the type to sew; it was far too feminine for one who acted as Mallory did.

"Well, I'm going to introduce you to Sawao and Demi," Li Xiao said. "They're nice people, but they're being a bit… mope-y. You'll like them though, come on."

And with this, Li Xiao motioned for Teo to follow her to the basement.

* * *

Mallory Belmond had always wanted to be a girly-girl, but knew she was never cut out to be one.

As a child, Mallory never wanted to play with dolls as other girls did, but enjoyed looking at the lovely, rosy-cheeked faces and beautiful dresses of the porcelain ones which once belonged to her mother. She had a soft spot in her heart for music boxes, especially ones which played songs such as 'The Music Box Dancer' and 'Send in the Clowns'. She was lucky that many of these were used as decoration in the numerous rooms of the Belmond mansion, as her father would have never approved of his daughter going out of her way to purchase something as frivolous as a music box.

Mallory, when she was young, had hated her father for several reasons, and this was one of the many. He never treated her as a child, despite her mother's protests, and this forced Mallory to grow up quickly.

As children develop, as they mature, they begin to try and make sense of their world. If not, they grow up to find the world an awfully confusing and chaotic place, and have difficulty coping with it. Mallory was no different. She sought to make sense of the world, and make sense of it she did.

At age two-and-a-half, she learned from her father that 'Shut the hell up, you're irritating me' meant stop crying. And if her father wanted her to stop crying, crying must be a bad thing that one must refrain from, even when they had stubbed their toe or skinned their knee.

Mallory convinced herself at the age of four that she did not need or want to sleep with a teddy bear, or come to her mother's room when she was afraid at night. Her father called it 'pathetic', and seemed utterly disgusted when she did so. Although her mother had told her it was okay, it was alright to want something to hug at night, it was alright to come to her mother's room if she was frightened, Mallory was already firm in her judgment that at four, she was far too old for such things as stuffed animals.

However, her father's message of 'You don't need it. You shouldn't be afraid of being alone at night in the least bit,' was far stronger. In hindsight, Mallory knew that her father was trying to help her and make her a more stable person through his own (rather flawed) methods, but at the time she had thought her father was ridiculing her, as would others, probably.

Playing, Mallory discovered, was also an action that was not to be partaken in. Her father would rather Mallory sit still and stare into space than play with dolls, blocks or a ball. He never actually spoke out against it; it was simply the cold passing glances he gave her that warned her of her 'misbehaviors'. Her mother, on the other hand, would show interest in what Mallory was doing; she would even sit with her as she played.

But playing never held Mallory's attention for long, though. She would grow bored of tediously stacking blocks or tossing a ball up, and quite honestly, wondered why anyone would find such a thing amusing.

Mallory knew her behavior was bad, but she didn't particularly care. If breaking a vase meant getting out of having her hair combed, so be it. If she had to scream to tell her mother that she didn't want to go outside and play, so be it. Mallory wanted her way, and she would get it one way or another, even if her father hit her and called her a 'spoiled brat'.

Mallory's parents argued often, always about how they were treating her. Mallory didn't want to bother her mother. She loved her mother, and was sorry to be worrying her.

Soon, Mallory grew old enough to go to school, pre-kindergarten, to be exact. At that age, she began to wear make-up to cover the markings on her face; although her skin was so pale she needed a custom-made shade. Even then, the color seemed off to her, but she didn't mind.

Mallory loathed this new place called school with every bone in her body. It wasn't that she had trouble with the material. It was that the material was too easy. She was constantly scolded for not paying attention, for wanting to do something harder, something more challenging.

Not only did she hate school itself, but she hated the other students.

They cried. They played. They could not read nearly as well as she could. They were bad. They also didn't seem to know the meaning of 'go away' or even the proper use of a handkerchief.

So Mallory put up with the place called school for weeks and weeks. Soon, it got to the point where she wanted to never return. She was unbearably bored, unbearably annoyed the entire time, and she had gotten in trouble for calling a first grader 'mentally deficient', a phrase she had learned from a book she found in the house.

During recess, Mallory got hit by the older boys for calling them stupid or insulting them in some other manner, or even for ignoring their teasing of her for being a 'weirdo' and not playing tea party and house with the other girls. They'd push her down and hold her ankles and wrists and punch her, kick her and even toss dirt on her.

She didn't care, or tell anyone. Mallory figured she deserved it; she mouthed off to them, and couldn't fight back. She was a skinny, scrawny child, an easy target to begin with. Plus a big mouth, she had a sign saying 'punch me' hanging over her head. Besides, her father had hit her harder before. Being beaten up didn't bother her, but something about it did. She wasn't allowed to hit back. As futile as her punching would be, she would at least like to try. She was always being held down by someone. As a result, she began to hate any sort of unexpected physical contact, even to the point of twitching and screaming when it happened.

This she had to hide from her parents, it was probably as bad as crying. She could brace herself for it, though, which she took great pride in.

Mallory also hated dirt because of being beaten up; she despised any visible grime on her person. It was demeaning, it was humiliating… Mallory began to shower constantly, even two or three times in a day.

At this point, the five-year-old began to think that there was something dreadfully wrong with her, something terrible. She hated it. She hated her father, and what he would say to her, she hated speculation about her mother's reaction to the discovery of her daughter's problems. She hated school, she hated the kids at her school, she hated it all so much that she blew a hole right through a nicely trimmed topiary out in the yard.

She considered this incredibly scary, and ran to ask her father, the scariest person she knew, what she had done, although she was sure he'd say something nasty, or tell her something was wrong. But, for one of the first times she could remember, her father cracked a tiny smile, kneeled down and told her that he was going to teach her to fight, a rather sudden proposition, met by Mallory asking how bored he was around the house. "Oh hell, it's killing me," was the answer Mallory received, accompanied by a small and somewhat awkward hug.

With this, any serious arguing between Mallory's parents ceased. In addition, Mallory stopped acting as a girl would. She no longer chose to wear the dresses her mother selected for her; instead she wore simple black shirts and shorts. Although she found them drab, she liked how easy they were to move around in.

Mallory loved fighting. She loved venting her anger on what she was practicing attacks on. She loved any sign of her physical strength increasing. She loved the feeling when she gained a new spell. It also made her father happy, and Mallory was glad to see this. She'd grown rather attached to him through the training he'd put her through, and at this point, loved him quite dearly as she did her mother. She'd miss school to spend time with him, but Mallory hated school so much that she'd much rather spend her time on a medieval torture rack than there.

Mallory's father found out about her problems, but actually didn't say much about them. He tried, without any success, to fix Mallory's aversion of unanticipated physical contact. Mallory implored that he not tell her mother.

Soon, Mallory began to see that she could pay the kids that 'screwed her up' back tenfold with her new strength. She didn't even need to use spells, she could just hit them, and even make them do what she wanted them to do, like bring her books, give her some of their lunch or even make them beg for her not to hit them.

They were stupid. They were weak. They were irritating. They weren't nice people. Mallory saw that, according to all sense, the other children deserved to be treated like the lowest of the low, because that was what they were.

She never shook the notion that the other children were bad, either. Those who are bad deserve to be punished, right? And punish them Mallory did, exercising whatever power she deemed necessary.

Mallory was, quite honestly, proud of herself. She wanted her mother to be, too, but when Mallory showed her, she wasn't. In fact, the woman almost cried, and yelled at Mallory's father. Mallory didn't get it. She'd been doing a good thing, punishing the bad. She'd only hurt people who she thought deserved it. And then, during this argument, her father did something he'd promised not to do. He told Mallory's mother about Mallory's problem. Then, out of the blue, he grasped Mallory's arm, causing the girl to scream, desperately trying to pull away. Mallory's father asked her mother if she wanted the kids who caused Mallory to react like such to go unpaid, almost yelling at her. Mallory's mother cried, and had Mallory go to a different school.

Mallory hated it there, too, just as much as the other school if not even more.

Then, when Mallory turned six, something wonderful happened. For the first time in her life, Mallory fell in love.

His name was Kiyomaro Takamine. He was a young man her mother sometimes wrote to from Japan, a handsome and intelligent young man. His air instantly infatuated the child, it was a crush-on-your-teacher sort of thing the moment she saw him. It shocked Mallory to find that he was the same age as her father, and that Kiyomaro actually had a boy her age, and a little girl who was only two.

Mallory had never thought of her parents as young before, but Kiyomaro was young, so her father must be young, and her mother wasn't all that much older than her father.

Kiyomaro visited the home in France while he was visiting his father in England across the channel. He brought Mallory a present, a leather-bound book.

"_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland._" She'd read the title aloud as she received the book.

Instead of saying, "_Wow! You'll grow up to be so smart some day!_" like the ladies who sometimes came to drink tea with her mother, Kiyomaro said, "Yeah, it was one of my favorites when I was about your age. I didn't really know what you might like…"

"Thank you," Mallory had said, "Thank you!"

He asked her how she liked school, and without hesitation, she told him that she didn't like it in the least bit, that it was all too easy. He laughed knowingly, and told her he knew the feeling incredibly well, and that she was going to have to stick with it. He ruffled her hair just slightly, and in that moment, Mallory could just feel that Kiyomaro knew so much, maybe everything, maybe more, and that he understood her.

She didn't realize for a long while what had happened inside of her during the conversation, and never found out exactly when it happened, but slowly the girl came to the realization that she loved Kiyomaro.

Because of this, she desperately tried to become more feminine, thinking he might notice her, even after he left. She improved her manners. She learned to sew, knit and crochet, none of which ever held her attention for long. She wasn't very good, either; she often pricked herself with the needle or tied the yarn into a knot. Eventually, though, she did get good enough to make a scarf or repair holes in clothing. Mallory tried wearing dresses again, but found that she was no longer comfortable in such things, and couldn't stand wearing them. Slowly, she became conscious of the fact that she could not become girly.

Maybe, she thought, maybe she was more of a tomboy. She wasn't good at sports, though. Being a demon, her body was perfect for athletic activity, but she could never comply with the rules of the games everyone else played. Besides, she was impatient and had no time to hone a skill like controlling her kicks to play soccer.

Mallory never found a way to fit in with the girls, and still loathed the boys, so she isolated herself at school, she never even bothered to open her mouth, and none of the kids noticed her. That made the school day a little more bearable.

The next time Kiyomaro visited, when Mallory was almost seven, he brought his son with him, and pulled Mallory aside, and asked her to be his friend. If Kiyomaro had not asked her to, Mallory would have definitely not been this boy's friend. He complained a lot, and was rather lazy. Mallory found him annoying, but pretended to be his friend for two days, for Kiyomaro.

Then Kiyomaro's wife sat her son down at the piano, telling Mallory's mother that he was a musical prodigy. And that he was, the boy played amazingly. Mallory, who did not like the boy, but liked hearing people play, sat in. This was something Mallory had never been able to do, her fingers were clumsy and slow, she could never play any sort of instrument, although she tried. Mallory loved music, that's why she loved music boxes, why she loved listening to people play. Yet her fine motor skills were lacking, so she never had any success at playing piano.

And she told the boy this, almost crying. She could never do anything special like play music or draw. She never had any fine arts skills, she couldn't even do things that could help her get along with kids. Mallory wanted to impress people with something she could do, but never had any special talents. She could never be proud about a talent, she could never listen to herself play and say, 'I did that', she could never create anything like a song. It was the first time she ever let something even close to her shortcomings out to someone else, and she couldn't stop unloading them. She couldn't paint pictures. She couldn't sing, she couldn't do anything that would make her look smart and refined. She couldn't make herself happy with her own talents. She could never record a piece of music she played and have others listening to it, and think 'This piece of music is mine, I wrote it and played it for me.'

Then, after a long pause, the boy said something that she didn't expect. "I-I'll play music for you. I know it isn't the same, but still… Any instrument, you name it, really. When I get good enough, I'll write you music, and play it, and you can think that it's for you, because it is." His face was sort of red as he said it, so he turned away. Mallory was surprised. At that point, she decided to think of the boy actually as a friend, not just because Kiyomaro told her to. She actually felt bad, seeing as the boy must have liked her a whole lot to offer this to her.

Mallory chose guitar and hugged the boy, because she thought all the best music was played on guitar. Through this, the boy became Mallory's first friend. The next year, she went to Japan when she was seven and met one of the boy's friends, a girl who was like her. The girl was half-mamono, just like Mallory. Mallory liked her instantly; she was friendly, happy and had a lot of energy. Mallory sort of wished she were the girl.

"We're two of a kind," she'd told Mallory. "But we're not going to be the only two for long. It doesn't look like it now, but my mom's going to have a baby! I'm practicing to be a big sister!" Mallory had smiled when she heard this, and had the girl promise to call her when the baby was born.

When the time came, instead of the happy call Mallory expected, the other half-mamono was crying over the phone. The baby, a little girl, had been born in poor health and with incredibly weak lungs, and had died a week after birth. Mallory didn't tell her friend that hybrids of any sort often were sickly and died young, and that the two were lucky for being alive and healthy. Although she had developed a reputation of being rather frank, Mallory couldn't tell her that. It would make her sound like an idiot adult. She knew it was not the right thing to say. For one of the first times in her life, Mallory felt mature.

About a year later, Mallory discovered that her mother was pregnant. She really was worried that what happened to the girl's new sister would happen to this baby. The baby was born healthy, but with an impotent personality. He didn't even cry at night. Mallory had read impotency in some form or another was common in hybrids, just as being born unhealthy was. But her brother was alive, and this made Mallory happy.

Around age twelve or thirteen, Mallory asked herself an important question. "Where the hell did my childhood go?!" She always was worried about something, she always hated something, she was always trying to enforce her own type of justice. Either what was said about childhood in books was wrong, or she never had one. She'd never been happy with the simplicity of doing something uncomplicated and pleasant; she always grew bored with these simple, and in the eyes of others, enjoyable things. Mallory wanted those days back. She wanted to play with dolls or engage in some other childish activity, but she was far too old for that. As the amount of schoolwork to _not_ do grew, she began to think back to the days when it was all so simple, where she'd get a worksheet of five questions, and finish it during that irritating twenty-minute rush-hour called recess.

At times, when things got especially stressful with teachers complaining, she wanted to cry to her parents, something she told herself she couldn't do. She'd never done it, and wondered if it would make it all better. But Mallory was too old to do this. What pre-teen runs to their parents and cries? She would not allow herself to do so; she was far, far too old. Mallory still, deep down, wanted to sleep with a teddy bear, but she couldn't. She couldn't. She was grown-up now, those things were for little kids.

She'd taught herself her classmates weren't worth it as a child, but now she did want to approach them, to be friends. But she was too scared to do so, she was still afraid that they'd make fun of her as they giggled at the outsiders who didn't play house correctly in kindergarten. Mallory thought that she had nothing in common with them, and wasn't very keen on changing her interests. She kept her distance, although she did want to be part of a group, in with all the other kids. She just couldn't, though.

Mallory always thought she'd grown up too fast, but in truth, she never grew up at all. She still was the same spoiled brat she was when she was four; she was no more mature now than she was then.

But as Mallory mended the tear in the pants of the mamono prince, using a skill which the acquisition of had been a failed attempt to grow up, she had an odd feeling that she was doing something that an adult might.

* * *

"Aston, why haven't you eaten all of your food?" I looked at Babylon Angel, and then down at my plate and the vegetables I had left on it. I hated vegetables, they just happened to come with the lasagna at the restaurant we were eating at. My taste buds, I figured, would never mature.

The mamono and I had gone out together to a small restaurant in town, and were currently sitting at a booth by a window. Babylon Angel never stole anything from the town; he paid everyone the prices he owed there with stolen money. He told me that he wanted to be thought well of in the town, because he didn't want anyone to be suspicious of him. The police, he said, would be very annoying.

"Well," I said, chuckling slightly, "the Brussels-sprouts are talking to me."

"Huh? What're they saying?" Babylon Angel asked. By the inflection of his voice, I had no way to tell if he was joking along or if he seriously believed me.

"Oh, just that they cause cancer," I said, smiling.

Babylon Angel jumped, almost knocking over his fifth ice-cream sundae. "Really?! I thought cancer was caused by a mutation of a cell so that it will split at an unprecedented rate! Are these things what spark the mutation?!" he asked, prodding the Brussels-sprout with his unused knife. He really wasn't joking along.

"No…" I replied, "I was kidding. They don't talk to me, and they probably don't cause cancer. I just don't like the way they taste."

"Oh, I feel smart now," Babylon Angel said, laughing at himself and taking another bite of his sundae.

"That's fine," I said, "It'd be mighty odd if they did though," I said. "I mean, everyone goes on about how good for your health they are, and then they go and do something that causes cancer…"

"I like the way you talk," Babylon Angel said randomly. "I mean, I like the way you pronounce words. It's cool! It's an English accent, right?"

"We, the English, do not have accents," I said back, feigning indignation in my voice, "Everyone else does. When will people learn that?!"

Babylon Angel laughed. "You're funny, you know that? Hey, do you call the TV the 'telly'?"

"No!" I said. "I call it the television!"

"Aha! You say it like 'telly-vision, though!" Babylon Angel exclaimed.

"Oh, shut it," I said, rolling my eyes, still smiling. I kind of wondered how I ever got on without someone like Babylon Angel before.

* * *

Maybe if Mallory had been in the room, staring at me in expectation, I wouldn't have lied.

"Nope, it doesn't make a word of sense," I said, watching disappointment creep over the young boy named Teo's features. "Sorry, kid."

"It would have worked if it were a Disney film," Li Xiao said. "I'll take you out looking for your bookkeeper around here later. If we can't find one, well, that does present a problem, seeing as none of us has a driver's license."

I could read the red book. The page said '_Zakeru,_' whatever the hell that meant. Seeing as Li Xiao and the blonde kid looked upset, I decided to pretend to be, too. Apparently I did a good job of it, because Li Xiao walked over to pat me on the back. "It's okay Sawao. I know how cool it would have been…"

I just shrugged. After hearing Teo's sob-story of how he wanted to find the guy who kidnapped his cousin and save her, I was less than thrilled with the prospect of boldly dashing into the line of fire to rescue a kid I didn't even know.

Sure, the same creep supposedly took my sister, but I had this overwhelming feeling that Naoko was dead, and her corpse wasn't worth risking my life to bring back home. Besides, the problem would resolve itself as time passed. Either that or our parents would resolve it. It wasn't worth it.

So, to do my best to avoid getting in a fight that I needn't be in, I lied.

"Sorry," I said again.

"It's fine…" the boy said. "It's not your fault, Sawao." He tried to cover up his disappointment in his voice, but failed. "I just really wanted to save Rue, and got a little ahead of myself."

"The person who took your cousin took Naoko, too, right?" Demi, who had been quiet before, asked.

Apparently Teo hadn't noticed Demi, because he jumped slightly before looking at him. "Naoko…?"

"That's Sawao's sister," Li Xiao said. "She disappeared a while back, like your cousin did. Oh, and speaking of siblings, this is Mallory's brother, Demi. You're wearing his clothes."

"Mallory's really mean, you know…" Teo said. "Why did she hit you when we were upstairs?"

"Ah, she wasn't being mean to me," Li Xiao said, chuckling. "_I_ was being mean to _her_. She had every right to knock me on my head…" I knew this had something to do with Mallory's flat chest, I knew it. Li Xiao liked to flaunt her features.

Teo blinked. Yeah, he didn't get it. "Oh. Well, it's really nice to meet you, Demi!"

"Mm-hmm…" Demi nodded. "Teo, when you find your book-reader, could you save Naoko? Not just Rue, but Naoko too..."

Teo nodded, sitting down next to Demi. "Was Naoko your friend?" he asked.

Demi nodded. As the two talked, I decided to leave the room. I just had to leave, because in the presence of Teo and that red book, as cliché as it sounds, I was pretty much living a lie.

* * *

Kiyomaro took a swig of coffee. He was yet again in a relatively bad mood, but seeing as he had been getting enough sleep, it wasn't like he was going to snap again. Instead of focusing on the fact that their hours of research were turning out no results, he decided to start a conversation with Nazo Nazo Hakase, who was buttering a bagel in the seat next to him. "You know," he said, "I keep expecting to see Vino somewhere around here, seeing as you're his legal guardian…"

"Actually, I was deemed unfit in a court of law to raise a child for several reasons, one of which being that I didn't make Big Boing wear a 'proper outfit'!" Nazo Nazo Hakase said, smiling broadly.

Kiyomaro sighed. He figured something like that would happen…

"Actually, that was a lie!" the Doctor said. "He's actually at highschool. The place he goes requires its students to live on campus... and runs pretty late into the summer. He had been wanting to go there for a while, and was pretty happy when he got in. It's a rather high-end place."

"Oh. How far is it away from here?" Kiyomaro asked. He wanted to try to keep this at a level of simple, casual conversation, and keep cool and collected.

The elderly man didn't answer, and bit his bottom lip as if he were going to change the subject. "Kiyomaro," Nazo Nazo Hakase finally said, "I have to ask you... What are you going to do if you find out who kidnapped Naoko and the others?"

Kiyomaro blinked, a little surprised at the sudden serious turn of the conversation. "We're going to do whatever's necessary to get them to release the people they've kidnapped," Kiyomaro said, "even if it means staging an attack on the person or persons responsible."

"That's what I thought…" Nazo Nazo Hakase said. "If that's the case, I'm afraid I can't offer any help past the research."

"Why?" Kiyomaro asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" the old man said. "I'm almost eighty now, and it would probably be best for my health if I didn't go into any sort of battle. Besides, I would probably collapse from even a little loss of heart energy, dragging you all down, especially Kid. I'd be a liability."

"Uh, ah… don't say that," Kiyomaro said, even though the Doctor's reasoning made good sense.

Nazo Nazo Hakase laughed. "That's why I'm taking it upon myself to provide first-class airfare for you if you have to travel!" He paused. "Well, it's Riddle Time!"

"Huh?!" Kiyomaro said, startled at the older man's proclamation.

"First riddle!" Nazo Nazo Hakase declared. "Does the perpetrator or perpetrators want to hide their movements?"

Kiyomaro shook his head. "No. They're leaving that mark everywhere," he said, "sort of like they're signing their name to their actions."

"Correct!" Nazo Nazo Hakase said. "Riddle number two! Are there any patterns in the humans that have disappeared, or do they seem to be randomly taken?"

"No," Kiyomaro said. "They're of all ages, all nationalities, all religions… Nothing similar between them is evident."

"Right!" Nazo Nazo Hakase said. "What does this remind you of?"

Kiyomaro thought for a while, and finally answered, "The bookkeepers for the demons?" on a whim. It was a wild guess.

Nazo Nazo Hakase clapped. "Haha! Good job, Kiyomaro! You always were good at answering my riddles! Next riddle! Which Teletubbie sparked controversy because of possible homosexual undertones?"

"That isn't relevant!" Kiyomaro said. "How am I supposed to know that, anyways? I don't watch Teletubbies!"

"Or do you, Kiyomaro?" asked the elderly man.

"No!" returned Kiyomaro crossly.

Nazo Nazo Hakase laughed. "Okay, now for the real riddle! Is the number of missing demons very close to that of the humans?"

Kiyomaro nodded. "But there's one extra human gone…"

"Still, the numbers are incredibly close, right? Books also disappeared from the Makai, if what Gash and Kid tell me is correct," said Nazo Nazo Hakase. "So what do you think the kidnapper or kidnappers are trying to do?"

"Raise an army?" Kiyomaro asked.

"You catch on quick!" the older man cheered. "But it's expected of a genius! Now, on a hunch, would you say that the person or persons responsible are human or demon?"

"Demon, easily," Kiyomaro said. "They leave no proof of their kidnappings, not even footprints. I mean, they took Naoko right out from under our noses. It's probably through use of magic… They also would control the humans and maybe the demons they kidnapped using magic… But being demon would explain why we can't find out anything about them in your book collection."

"Right!" Nazo Nazo Hakase said. "Now, seeing as they're collecting humans and books as well as demons for their army, they'd have to be operating in Ningenkai, right?"

"Right," agreed Kiyomaro. "Maybe I should ask Gash if there's any sort of record in the Makai of the demons that were missing before this incident… It might give us some idea of who's doing it, and we could find more information from there…"

"There you go!" Nazo Nazo Hakase said, laughing.

"Thank you, doctor," Kiyomaro said, bowing his head slightly in thanks as he got up from the table.

* * *

Done. I'm pretty sure you're sick of reading this chapter now, so I'll wrap it all up. Basically, we learned that Mallory's a Kiyomaro fangirl (totally one-sided, mind you. CannonxOC makes me cut myself, as do -most- 10-plus year age differences...), Li Xiao had a sister that died in her infancy, and Sawao's Teo's book-reader, but he's lying about it.

Bye-bye, have a good day!

**Review**, or you will only get tube-socks for Christmas!


	7. Goodbye, Blue Monday!

March of the God

**March of the God**

**Chapter 7: Goodbye, Blue Monday!**

Hullos. Welcome to chapter seven, where stuffs happen.

I'm going to try to cut down on the inner monologue, but there still might be a lot, seeing as I was given the suggestion by a reviewer halfway through this, and I'm still not so good at editing stuffs. I think I pushed the fact that most of my characters are whiny the-glass-is-half-empty-always children who need to grow up badly a _teensy_ bit too hard.

Thanks for the reviews y'all, especially the concrit. I take thine advice to my heart. Aspiring writers need it, don't we: D

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Konjiki no Gash Bell. If I did, things would be very different, and would go according to my very sick sense of humor. For instance, there would be a character named 'Kirk the Pimp'. I don't own anything else that I'll be mentioning, by the way, aside from my OCs. I believe I've already issued my orange-in-a-sock threat, no?

**Ooh, I'd like to add that the chapter is a bit rushed, I know that's not a good habit to get into! I apologize!**

* * *

Gash laid the scroll out on the table. The material of the 'paper' was unlike that of any paper known to man, it was a color that would remind one of opal, and had a faint glow to it which accentuated the small black words, written in a neater and more elaborate fashion than any calligrapher could ever hope to accomplish. Obviously, this document had come from the Makai, chronicling all of those who had disappeared and had not yet been found.

"Is this what you wanted, Kiyomaro?" the King asked. "This is a copy of the original, so you can mark on it if you want."

Kiyomaro nodded, and observed the paper on which the names and information about the missing was listed. All of a sudden, one of the names and the related information vanished from the opal-colored paper, and the lines under it moved up, as if someone had deleted a line on a computer. The Japanese man jumped, somewhat alarmed by the change on what he had thought was a hand-written document.

"Someone's been found," Gash said, "Either that or they've turned up dead…." At the second sentence Gash frowned. Kiyomaro still stared at the paper, eyes wide, panting slightly in surprise. Gash laughed. "I guess I should have told you! Any changes to the original, which are done by magic, are changes on here, too!"

"Well, I guess we can start marking names off," Kiyomaro said, taking a ballpoint pen from the table.

"Kiyomaro, do you mind if I go talk with Tio for a few moments before we start? She wanted me to tell her how Teo's doing. He was out playing with his friends while I was there, from what I heard, but Koruru told me that Teo's doing fine for his first long separation from his parents," Gash said, evidently proud of his young son.

"How long will this take?" Kiyomaro asked, narrowing his eyes. "Will this be like your 'coffee breaks'?"

"No, no!" Gash said, laughing sheepishly. "It'll just be a few minutes!" With this, the king scurried out of the room as fast as he could.

Kiyomaro sighed. This paper was the first lead that might come of something. However, there were several, hundreds, probably, of missing mamono, and as it was, the time-frame was rather large. Aside from that, the demon could have gone missing and left the Makai a long time before they started acting on their plan, whatever that plan was. In truth, if, as Nazo Nazo Hakase said, the demon wanted to leave a trail indicating their movements, they weren't doing a very good job of it…

* * *

"No, no, and no!" I insisted, staring in absolute horror at the rust-colored liquid Babylon Angel had in the syringe he held, and more importantly, at the long needle of said syringe. "I am not letting you inject me with that!"

After a failed attempt at teaching me how to throw a punch and kick, Babylon Angel had taken my short impromptu 'instant gratification' speech to heart and decided to whip up an instant-super-strength serum. Apparently, side effects included excruciating sickness, vomiting (basically nausea) and headaches, which the onset of was immediately after injection, until your system made peace with the new fluid. Also, having one's skin pierced with a needle came in the package.

"Come on, Aston!" he said waving the needle in a bad attempt to make it seem less painful and more welcoming. "You could lift that snack machine really easily if you took this! And it's not steroids! It's the _magical_ equivalent of steroids, with no long-term repercussions!"

"Firstly, what did you put in that thing?! And secondly, does it have to be injected through a needle?!" I'd much rather take a suppository than have that needle jammed into any part of my body, and the very idea of suppositories scared me.

"Yes, it has to," Babylon Angel said reversing the order of my questions, "And it's a mixture of demon blood, magic, and some herbs from around Ningenkai which I'm using to improvise for the original recipe!"

"No!" I insisted. Where did he get that needle, anyways…? I mean… mystery blood and a needle, which I did not want to be injected with, that had unclear origins… It was like begging for AIDS or something of the sort.

"You'll still be technically human, so you'll still be able to read the pink book," Babylon Angel said. "I'm an expert at this; I've practiced for over 4,000 years in the Makai! You can trust me on this, I made sure there's just enough blood. As long as it's a tiny amount like this, you're going to be just fine!"

"I'm not worried about being human or not! I'm worried about how painful having you stick that damned thing into me will be!" I said, finally snapping over it. Although I thought words like 'hell' and 'damn' probably more often than anything else, it was rare for me to actually _say_ them aloud for the world to hear. I'd been (forcedly) raised better than that; I was an _Englishwoman_, for the good Lord's sake. My family, after all, was relatively old-fashioned.

Babylon Angel looked at the syringe he held. "This isn't that bad, is it? And if you want to know, the needle's brand-new, and super-clean!"

I nodded. Although part of the reason to fear AIDS had vanished, I'd always been afraid of getting shots as long as I could remember for no particular reason except for, of course, being squeamish of any sort pain.

"I could knock you out," said Babylon Angel, "only that will probably give you a bruise the size and shape of an egg. I doubt you'd want that." He paused. "Or I could distract you! Look, there's a distraction!"

Of course I didn't look. Who would? "Listen, I don't want to be injected with anything, especially not magic steroids! Just let me be!"

He blinked and looked down at the syringe again. Once again, he began to speak, more slowly and his words more emphasized than before. "Ah… okay. I took a long time to make this, you know. Besides…"

* * *

"…Besides, this will give you power. You can get back at your parents, you know…" the demon said, smiling. Words had always been his specialty. He could relay any thought in a very calm and cool fashion; he could lie about anything with a straight face. Persuasion, too, came under his expertise. Articulation and language had come naturally to him, he never had to work at it as he had to in order to learn mind-control techniques or how to use special spells. Of course he had refined his talent, but it had never been hard work.

The girl blinked, drawn in. "G-get back?"

"Yep, you tell me how much you hate them, how much pain they've caused you. I could take you to the suburbs of London in an instant. I remember right where it was, you know. With both this and the book, you could defeat and destroy _anyone_." Babylon Angel was lying, as he had many times before. This, however, was the first time he'd lied to Aston, and it made him feel odd inside. Maybe it was because this lie could hurt her. There were many human/demon teams that could defeat his whole army without so much as loosing a substantial amount of heart energy, he knew. One teenage girl and her small demon partner were among this mass, even if the girl did have incredible strength.

Aston blinked and thought, obviously contemplating. Babylon Angel bit his lip. Aston had never said she 'hated' her parents, but once she got talking, she had _constantly _complained about them. He sure hoped he'd gotten it right— otherwise his persuasion would sound weird and he'd seem like a jerk. But one usually did hate something they incessantly complained about, so the demon felt like he was on the right track.

Even if 'anyone' was a little much, the average human would be an easy win even without the serum for one with a demon and a book. In truth, Babylon Angel would much rather Aston leave her parents alone, but honestly, he was concerned about the girl. She had been his first friend in thousands of years, a friend he didn't want to see hurt in battle. Even if she'd still be defeated easily, she'd be able to hold her ground better than anyone else, and then, if it ever came to it, run away faster.

Babylon Angel knew the King and his companions were amazingly strong, far stronger than he was. He'd made plans and preparations to counter their strength, he had gathered pawns to weaken, no matter how slightly, and distract them with. He felt nothing for these pawns. Most were as lifeless as puppets, their true self silenced and bound behind luminous purple eyes. It was hard to think of this fraction of them as anything more than pawns, anyhow. Babylon Angel never talked to the un-possessed ones if he could help it. Even then it was a quick and impersonal word.

Except for maybe one. Aston. The thing that originally drew Babylon Angel to Aston amongst the other book-readers he was gathering was that she had been _crying_ when they met. She was in pain, not physically but mentally. She needed help, she needed a friend, and Babylon Angel could provide both.

Aston, he learned, was a daydreamer of sorts, over-dramatizing things, making it much worse on herself. She caused most of her own problems by being undisciplined and melodramatic, and as far as Babylon Angel could tell, Aston was a mess, a walking pity-party who loved to romanticize her world and make her opinions sound grand. She was just a child; she needed guidance that she would actually listen to. Babylon Angel was trying to find out how to provide this.

Aston shifted her weight, clearly thinking. Then, slowly, she reached out her arm to Babylon Angel. "I-I'll do it," she said.

Babylon Angel smiled slightly, sticking the needle into Aston's arm and injecting the fluid into her. She made a rather loud squeaking noise as he did this, almost jumping backwards, away from the demon. She clutched her hand over the tiny pinpricked area, overreacting slightly.

"Oww…" Aston muttered. She then spilled the contents of her stomach onto the floor.

"Yeah, that'll happen," Babylon Angel said. "I told you about it! I'll get someone to clean that up… Come on, I just got a couch placed in my room… we'll get a bucket and you can rest on there…" he said, lifting her up by her torso. "You're okay, right, Aston?"

The girl nodded. "Throwing up is no big deal for me," she said, grinning slightly.

"You sure?" Babylon Angel asked, hauling the girl along, careful not to allow her trailing feet to hit a rock or the walls.

Aston nodded, smiling softly and tiredly.

Her expression was mimicked by that of Babylon Angel's, only his was broader from happiness at this simple reassurance. Even if Aston was sick now, even if she ended up hurting others, it was all so that she could defend herself. His words and actions were justified.

* * *

I was actually beginning to feel bad about lying to Teo about not being his bookkeeper as I observed him sitting on the couch. He stared down at his knees in disappointment instead of at the TV screen, the poison of normal children. He had gone out, under our _mature, fourteen-year-old supervision,_ searching for someone who could read his book to no avail.

Only I could read his red book. I knew from the stories my parents told me. Because only I could, he would never find a book-reader amongst the multitude in the city, or even in the world.

He could never fight to rescue his cousin without my assistance; he could never save her from whoever kidnapped her as well as my own sister, Naoko. A better person would have helped him. A less lazy person would have wanted to, but I was no less lazy, and no better. I would have been justified in wanting to find and attack his cousin's (not to mention my sister's) captor, but I knew it would do no good, even if we did find where on the large earth this mystery person was hiding.

It was better that I lied, anyhow. That way, Teo wouldn't get hurt. I wouldn't get hurt. No one would, not because of me, at least.

But Teo was really starting to bother me. Even Demi was looking at the screen, watching the opening credits of the cheesy old black-and-white vampire flick. I stood up and moved couches, sitting down next to the little prince of the Makai.

"You know, there's a movie on," I said, trying to keep myself from sounding like I cared at all. The movie was, as mentioned, probably the corniest and the oldest vampire flick you could find in the video rental stores of Mochinoki City. It was set in an old mansion in Transylvania, located way up in the Carpathian Mountains.

Teo looked up at me, frowning. "Are you sitting over here to make fun of me now, huh?" He seemed pretty down for a kid.

"No. You're just not… well… Kids are supposed to like watching TV, you know," I told him, trying to keep up the non-solicitous-totally-cool-teenager tone.

"Really?" he asked as a grumpy old groundskeeper who walked with a limp pontificated onscreen about how no one should live in the decrepit-yet-fancy Komacsarov mansion because something evil had been lurking there for a few centuries, about how he'd seen it with his own eyes and such.

I nodded, trying to think of something to say to a little kid. "Yeah. In this world, they watch it so much that scientists and researchers take studies to show that it's bad for your brain."

"Then we shouldn't be watching it if it is bad for our brains!" Teo said, his orange eyes wide. "Quick, Sawao! Tell Li Xiao to turn it off!"

I laughed as the groundskeeper continued to ramble on at the pretty young sisters, one brunette (as far as I could tell with the black-and-white) and the other blonde, that had bought the mansion where evil lurked. "They're just saying that so we'll read their research papers instead. That way they'll get more funding."

"Even if the acting in this is terrible, we're trying to watch the movie, you know," Mallory said, tossing an empty balled-up popcorn bag at the two of us. "Keep it down." She turned away from us towards the television, where the eyes of a painting were following the brunette as she walked through the hallways of her new home.

"Why is Mallory always so mean to everyone?" Teo pouted in a hushed tone.

"Aww, Mal's not so bad," I said. "She's smart, and she's nice if you know how to talk to her."

"Does that mean sucking up to her and agreeing with everything she says?" Teo asked, blinking.

"No!" I said, even though the kid had pretty much hit the nail right on the head. "Not at all!" Truthfully, I'd always found that not questioning Mallory's opinions and accepting them as fact made her _much_ more genial.

"I don't know why you and Li Xiao are friends with her," Teo said in a whisper. "She's mean, and complains about lots of things. I guess it's 'cause you're nice people, I could tell with Li Xiao when I met her, and just talking to you now tells me about you!" He paused. "You know, I'm really super-sorry that you aren't my book-reader. I really wish you were, Sawao!"

I didn't know what to feel. Offended, maybe, because Mallory was my best friend? Flattered, because I had been called nice? All I could feel, though, was plain lousy for lying. I didn't know what I was supposed to say. Was I supposed to fess up and apologize for not telling the truth about being able to read Teo's book? Then, I was saved by the bell. Actually, it was Li Xiao talking.

"Hey, check this out!" she grabbed for the remote and hit pause. It was the imminent blood-sucking scene of the movie where the vampire had come out of hiding and had found the blonde sister lying in her bed.

"Please observe," said Li Xiao as she stood up, walking over and positioning herself next to the TV set. "Freaky pale thing in black, which looks like it hasn't seen sun in forever leans over pretty blonde lady in bed and bites her neck." Li Xiao paused.

"So?" Mallory said, leaning forward towards the screen just slightly and crossing her legs. "I don't see anything."

I knew what was coming. I just… knew it.

"Demi? Lord Teo, Prince of Narnia? Sawao?" Li Xiao asked. "Any takers?"

I just shook my head. Demi didn't react, and Teo found himself with a very confused look across his face.

"Why, Mallory, I'm amazed you don't see the resemblance!" Li Xiao crooned, walking around behind the girl and patting her shoulders, chuckling all the while. "It's your parents making out!"

Ugh, knew it. It wasn't particularly funny, but still, Li Xiao and I loved to harp on Mallory's father for being mean, creepy and weird-looking, and having a bad fashion sense on top of it all. I don't even want to know where that ugly black fur came from!

Again with my masculinity issue.

This was all behind his back of course; he'd probably kill us and eat our corpses if we ever said anything to his face. We did, however, say it to Mallory's face. She just got irritated, and then laughed.

"Oh, shut up!" Mallory said, trying to look annoyed and angry. Instead, she keeled over, laughing as she always did. Mallory had a loud, open laugh, unlike Li Xiao's devious yet whole-hearted chuckle. "You're a real bitch," Mallory said, "You know that, Li Xiao?"

I let out a long breath. God, Li Xiao could come up with some weird things.

Teo winced at the use of the word 'bitch'. He most definitely had something against swears, even biblical ones like 'damn' and 'hell' to a small extent, because he'd stared at me in horror when I'd cussed after a guy in a Pontiac as he drove away for running a light and nearly hitting Teo when he was out looking for his bookkeeper.

"No more than you, Mallory, no more than you," Li Xiao said, still smiling broadly. She could be such an idiot, I thought, but an idiot I was sure glad to have around.

I figured I'd think of my issue with Teo later. Right now, I just wanted to hang out in my basement.

* * *

Sickness, for the most part, made me realize one thing: I'm a miserable, childish person that would probably never survive on their own in the real world.

"It should be over in a day or two," Babylon Angel said, handing me a plastic-lidded Styrofoam container and a plastic spork. The spork looked fast-food joint issued, and the Styrofoam container contained lemon rice soup, probably from a Greek-owned restaurant. Babylon Angel had probably paid for it with his own money, which had been stolen from others. Because of all the junk he had laying around, I was beginning to think that Babylon Angel was a kleptomaniac or something of the like. "Then you'll be up-and-at'em, ready to…"

"Ah, about that," I said, cutting Babylon Angel off as I better positioned myself on the arm of the couch. "I think it's better that I just let my parents go on with their lives and have or adopt another kid or whatever they want to do." I set the lid on the floor, ready to eat the warm soup. "You know, leave them alone?"

Babylon Angel blinked, and then smiled. "Change of heart, hmm, Aston?"

"I guess," I said, taking a sip of my soup. It needed pepper, but who was I to complain? I was ill and it was warm. The fever brought on by Babylon Angel's injected medicine had been terrible— I had lay on the couch puking into a bucket for a day an a half, sweating and crying, but it sure felt like it had been much, much longer.

"Hm. Why?" Babylon Angel asked, seeming very happy. He sat on the back of the couch, head titled just slightly, staring down at me with the large brown eyes of this Naoko Takamine.

"It was pretty much brought about by hour after hour of pounding headaches and nonstop vomiting into the bucket while begging to God that my mum would show up with a tablespoon full of Nyquil," I said. I constantly had been begging that my mother would come to my rescue, clad in sweats and armed with cold medicine, or at least an aspirin or two. Preferably both.

I wanted my mother the entire time, the mother I claimed to hate. Through all the stomach pains and sore muscles, I wanted one person. It wasn't Babylon Angel, who I had revered as I would God for 'saving' me; it was my mother, who'd cared for me while I was in states of sickness countless times before. My father wouldn't be so bad, either. I am ungrateful, I guess, because even after realizing how much I'd vilified home, a place that wasn't so awful at all, I, for some reason, still didn't want to return.

"You need Nyquil?" Babylon Angel asked. "How do you spell that? N-I-G-H-Q-U-I-L-L?"

"No, it's N-Y-Q-U-I-L. Nyquil, see? But I'm fine now, I don't need any Nyquil." In truth, I figured I'd need an extra bucket and loads of that Nyquil.

There was a short silence as I continued eating my soup. "Aston?" Babylon Angel said, "I'm sorry about suggesting that… you know… You kill your parents," he said. "I'm very sure that you think I'm the evilest thing on the plane of existence now…"

"We all say things we don't actually mean," I said, finding no better way to phrase it. I had given up on ladling the soup into my mouth with the plastic spork and just began drinking it from the Styrofoam container, even if it was a rather thick soup and it flowed slowly. We all think things we don't mean, as well. All it took to fix that, however, was a bad bout of nausea.

"Are you really okay?" Babylon Angel asked. "…'cause I'd love to give that training a second try, you know…"

"I'll have a go…" I said, although my poor stomach was nowhere near ready. Truth be told, I was beginning to want to return home— after I helped Babylon Angel succeed in his plans. He was my friend, after all.

During my sickness I decided I would return home under the guise of an innocent kidnapping victim with a shining new view on things.

"Great!" he said, smiling. "We've got a whole tundra for room! Come on! I'll call your partner, I'm pretty sure she's in the next room!"

He pulled on my arm as I had barely slipped my vest on. His enthusiasm was almost infectious, making me think of a phrase from my favorite book. It was way out of context, but still, I was ready to say "Goodbye, Blue Monday!" and look forward to a distant Friday.

* * *

This was kind of a short (and rather terrible) chapter, but let's pretend that it wasn't. It was kind of rushed, I apologize. Because in a chapter or two, exciting things may begin to happen, and I'm anxious to begin writing them.

Summarized, Babylon Angel's plotted to give Aston super-strength by using a magical serum, Sawao's having a moment equivalent to 'hmmm… should I be studying for my SATs right now?' and Aston herself is on one of the ups of the roller coaster of teenage emotion in deciding that she's been vilifying her parents too much. And then, I decided to quote Vonnegut yet again.

**Review!**


	8. To Each Their Own

**March of the God**

**Chapter 8: To Each Their Own**

Welcome to Chapter 8, dearest. I'm glad that you, the reader (and the rest of the readers) have stuck around to read to this point/are just that bored.

I lied when I said exciting things were going to happen. This chapter does, however, set up for those exciting things I mentioned…

I write this in my room with my laptop, the voice of Sawao Yamanaka (who I named my OC after, of course) blaring from the headset on my stuffed elephant, which just happens to be a speaker. 

**About the European restaurants and the Chinese clothing :** The mentions of fancy European restaurants were from my own dining experiences (quoteth a waiter who offered me after-dinner liquor: "The legal drinking age is eighteen here, but no one actually _obeys_ it…"), and from listening to my parents and their friends, some of whom lived in Europe for a while. The Chinese clothing was referenced from something a friend who lived in China had told me. I apologize if it's inaccurate.

The thing about the ex-Confederate soldier and John Wilkes Booth, however, is 100 percent true, I can assure you. –Civil War buff- 

**Disclaimer: **The authoress would like to inform you that she owns nothing, not Konjiki no Gash Bell, not anything I may mention. (Don't sue me kthxbai) But it's fine, because I'm not making any money from this fanfiction. I would be able to move out of my parents' basement, where I have hidden from the burning light of day for the thirteen long(?) years of my life, if I was. I do own my OCs. Any theft of them results in the penalty of death by a horde of rabid squirrels. Giant ones.

Today we start with Sawao. Enjoy, as much as you possibly can.

* * *

Teenagers, maybe a year or two older than me, were smoking in the little café without repercussion from the waitresses and the hostess, who were themselves eighteen at the most. Not only that, but the entire place seemed to be the smoking section. However, I didn't want to take any chances. I needed something to cool my nerves, though. Thanks to nicotine addiction, a cigarette was generally just what I used in these situations. I figured I could have smoked my entire pack by the time I was going to leave the restaurant if didn't resist the urge to take the lighter and pack of cancer-sticks from my coat pocket.

I swore to God that if we went out looking for Teo's bookkeeper one more time and he began to tear up after four hours of toil in vain, caused by my own cowardice and laziness (I admit it!), I would either admit to being able to read Teo's book or skip out of town on a train to go live with my great-aunt and her many cats in her apartment Tokyo, leaving my house in the hands of Mallory and Li Xiao, who would probably burn it down just to spite me for running away with the credit cards my parents left for us.

Mallory squirmed uncomfortably across the booth from me. It was obvious this wasn't the type of restaurant that the young heiress of the Belmond family was used to, especially as she paged through the menu. _What? No filet mignon? No foie gras? No stainless off-white tablecloth? No wine list? … You're trying to tell me that restaurants won't serve me a glass of wine anywhere except for in Europe?! _I smiled slightly as I imagined her saying this to the young waitress that stood, taking our orders, a foot away from the booth. Mallory had told me many things about high-class dining in Europe. Many restaurants that she'd been to, she said, gave you better service if you ordered something, preferably mid to high price, from the wine-list. (She added that they usually didn't let minors order alcohol, but most of the casual to formal restaurants she'd eaten at had no problem serving it to them.)

It was all too evident by her furrowed brow and troubled expression that she was feeling rather displaced in culture. She was a rich European heiress sitting in a hangout for middle-class high school and middleschoolers somewhere in Asia. "The lasagna might resemble food," I joked to her. The restaurant was relatively cheap, and wasn't any particular type of café, but I found the lasagna to be slightly above par for what you'd expect to get in exchange for eight hundred yen.

"Does it, now?" she asked, staring at it in the "Entrees' section of the menu. "I think I'm going to order a cup of the soup of the day instead," she said, scanning her other options. "Chicken dumpling, right?" She shot the waitress a glace and nodded to indicate that the soup was most definitely her order.

The waitress nodded and jotted down the order. "And what would you like, young man?" she asked, smiling at Teo.

"I think I'd like the lasagna, then," Teo volunteered. His tone sounded as if he was, instead of ordering a meal, volunteering to slay a dragon, but it diminished as he finished his train of thought. "…if that's okay, that is…"

"Of course it's okay!" Li Xiao declared. She'd earlier decided on quesadillas— basically cheese melted on tortilla bread with some sour cream on the side. "You can order anything that's on the menu! Heck, you can order everything that's on the menu if you want! You can even order something that's not on the menu, but then the service spits in or in some other way defiles your meal because you're a pain!" She tilted her head in a somewhat charming fashion, and smiled at the waitress, her lip-gloss catching the light on cue.

"I wouldn't dare!" the waitress said in a squeakily indignant tone, defending her honor as a server.

"Oh, not you, maybe, but what about the guy that's cooking this stuff?" Li Xiao asked. "He could get annoyed by the complexity of a special-order breakfast omelet and he might just ignore that '_hold the spittle and go light on the E. coli'_ note that you've written there on your notepad!" she finished, motioning towards the waitress's miniature notebook.

The waitress took a nervous glance toward the kitchen, and then laughed.

"Oh! I can have the lasagna, then?!" Teo asked, obviously relieved about something, probably if his prior statement had been appropriate or not. "I'm so used to eating whatever the Grand Chef at the palace in the Makai decided to cook!"

"So that would be one order of lasagna, then," the waitress said smiling brightly as she recorded his order on her notepad. Apparently she'd seen enough nut jobs and/or imaginative little kids during her work hours at the cheap little restaurant not to mind what he'd said about the Makai palace at all.

"And how about the other handsome little man?" she asked cheerily, probably vying for a generous tip.

"I'm going to have the same thing as my sister," Demi said, looking up from the paper napkin he had been fiddling with under the table. Both he and Teo sat on booster seats, seeing as they were not tall enough to sit at the booth without sitting on something that would raise them up to.

The waitress, who, according to the nameplate pinned to her apron, went by the name of Rie, could tell that Mallory and Demi were related, because she didn't have to ask before saying, "Two soups, then?" They had the same pale skin, the same dark hair, and the same large blue eyes. They looked the same in the face, too, only Mallory's features were obviously more adult-like and just a little more feminine. (Of course they were wearing make-up to cover their facial markings, but those too would have made the fact that they were siblings very pronounced.)

"And you in the sunglasses?" she asked. For a moment, I was wondering who she was talking to, seeing as I had forgotten about my darkened field of vision.

Sunglasses were a necessary accessory for me if I wanted to go out— huge, dark ones. Amazingly, they do stop a good deal of the '_Look! It's Sawao Takamine, the pop star Megumi's handsome son! Please sign my baby's forehead!_'. Paparazzi, however, usually can see through my shabby disguise, leaving the magazines where the pictures appear to marvel at the fact that I can now leave the house without the supervision of my parents.

"Oh…" I said, adjusting my shades, "Lasagna."

"One order of quesadillas, two orders of lasagna and two cups of soup coming right up!" Rie said, shooting a friendly glace at Li Xiao and a fervent one at Mallory as she left. It was probably because of the way Mallory dressed— black upon bright green upon black upon black, with various bangles, including a studded armlet, adorning her forearms… yeah, I can think of a few stereotypes that could be associated with, most of them not ones that most people would want to find members of hanging around their respectable business.

Li Xiao often attracted stares with her traditional Chinese attire, too, haggled out of the hands of Hong Kong marketplace tradesmen, mostly from men, often because it hung loosely off her body in all but one place, where it was pulled— her ever-prided chest. I cannot count how many times Li Xiao had complained about how many cute things she found in marketplaces didn't fit her, because Chinese women usually had flat chests. Or so she's told me.

I always wondered why Mallory and Li Xiao could never wear jeans and tee-shirts, maybe with jackets or something. I was the only one that dressed normally!

"Rie!" Li Xiao called to the waitress, having read her nameplate too, "Yoo-hoo! Look back over here!" Li Xiao raised Mallory's arms, which seemed to be limp in her hands, and pushed the bracelets down. "She's clean! No cuts here!" Li Xiao and I were on the same page, I could tell.

Rie giggled again as she walked off to give our orders to the chef.

"What was that for?" Mallory asked Li Xiao, grumbling.

"Because," she said, "we wouldn't want Rie there to get the impression that you cut yourself!"

"What? _Why?!_ You do realize you make no sense, right?" Mallory asked her, taking a sip of her cola.

"You do realize that I take pride in not making sense, right?" Li Xiao asked, leaning foreword on that table with her elbows. She broadened her smile in a rather contagious way. Li Xiao was impossible not to like, she was infectiously bright and charismatic, and all over whimsical. "Besides, I like making fun of you."

"How did you know her name?" Mallory asked, looking off towards the salt-and-pepper containers.

"Don't you bother to read the words engraved into the plastic pins on their shirts?" Li Xiao asked. "They're called _name_plates for a reason. They have the person's _name_ on it, you see."

Mallory rolled her eyes. "Elbows off the table," the dark-haired girl said, reprimanding Li Xiao's relaxed position, and then she turned on me, apparently not liking the fact that I was slouching on the seat of the booth. "And, for God's sake, Sawao, sit up!"

Mallory's typical fall-back argument: Our manners.

I decided to drop out of the conversation and talk to Teo, who was sipping his soda quietly, sadly looking into the Seven-Up. The kid was probably down about failing to find his bookkeeper again. So I decided to try and jazz him up about something, and that something was the prospect of karaoke.

"Hey, Teo, is there karaoke in the Makai?" I liked karaoke, and it was fun to sing, even if you were awful. I knew a good place that took charge cards and had a great selection, from this year's hits to foreign music from the sixties. The booths were pretty cozy and each had a different decoration theme, the waitresses served pop from glass bottles, and I'd been dying for a chance to go. What better way was there to convince people to do what I wanted than get a sad little kid to side with me? Besides, karaoke is just too much fun when no one laughs at you for being an awful singer.

"Car-a-okay?" Teo asked, sounding it out. "I've never heard of it, or I don't remember hearing of it ever."

"Yeah, karaoke. It's where words from songs you like come onto a screen and you sing to them. Loads of fun." I sure was the champion of detailed explanation, wasn't I?

"But I don't know any songs from Ningenkai!" Teo said, alarmed. "What if they don't let me in because…"

"Hey, don't worry about it, they'll let anyone in as long as they pay," I said, laughing. "I'll pick some slow, easy songs for you if you want to give it a go, okay?"

"Okay!" Teo said, smiling. "But do you think Li Xiao and… _Mallory_ will want to go?" he asked, his smile fading slightly. He seemed to be concerned with the 'Mallory' part of his statement.

"I'm pretty sure they'll be up for it. Let me check," I said, turning toward the two girls, whose conversation had somehow digressed to RPGs— Rocket-Propelled Grenades, however that was possible.

"Well, weren't they usually supplied by Soviets back when the USSR was still around?" the silver-and-black haired half-demon asked. "Who did they sell them to?"

"I have no idea, but I'm pretty sure the Americans have something better like some sort of rocket launcher…" Mallory answered. "But why are you asking me?"

"No reason," Li Xiao said. "It's just that I was hoping that my parents would buy me one for my birthday!"

"A rocket-propelled grenade?! For your fifteenth birthday?! Geez," Mallory chuckled, joking along. "Well, seeing as your grandfather heads up a criminal organization, he could probably get his hands on one…" Mallory said.

"Really?!" Li Xiao said. "Neat. Do you think they would let me store it in my check-in luggage on the airplanes? I mean, I know I wouldn't be able to put it in my carry-on bags…"

Well, with Li Xiao, there was definitely a way that it was possible for weaponry to come up in a conversation that started with nameplates and manners.

* * *

"Aston, you should stand on the balls of your feet and your toes. The expression 'be on your toes' has a good meaning, you know!" Babylon Angel said, demonstrating to me how I should stand for the twenty millionth time that day. "You won't be ready to attack or defend as quickly as you're going to need to if you fight flat-footed!" He threw a fast kick at the air from the position he was standing. "That," he said, "is much quicker than…" he changed his footing so that his bare heels rest on the tundra floor, and he threw another kick, "…this!"

I nodded, and stood up, rubbing the back of my neck. I don't ever recall so single-mindedly trying so hard at something as I was at this ever in my life, and I still wasn't making a strong headway at it. "Ugh, can't we practice with the book and spells?" I asked, panting from the sparring I'd been doing as I glanced towards my pink-haired partner, who was perched upon a rather large bush, an overgrown lichen of sorts, probably.

"Nope, you should learn the basics of hand-to-hand first," Babylon Angel said, "incase you ever get the book taken away from you. Your body is your last line of defense, you know!" He paused. "Your pain threshold and how much damage your body can take weren't influenced at all by my serum, and that means you're going to have to work at it!"

Bugger. That indeed was a terrifying idea if I've ever heard one. "Of course I do," I said, still massaging the back of my neck. "Otherwise tripping over my own feet wouldn't hurt so much." I figured the permafrost also had something to do with how hard the ground was, henceforth the pain involved in my fall. The 'perma' in permafrost meant 'hard in early summer'. "Besides, you told me."

I'd much preferred the 'smash the cinderblock with your fist' part of my training I'd done, which was easy thanks to Babylon Angel's magic injection. I'd just finally gotten over the vomiting and headaches induced by this serum, and quite honestly, I was glad. However, that meant I had no excuse to slack off. This was my second day of the basics of fighting, and I didn't like it all that much so far.

"Try going after me with the roundhouse kick again," he said after helping me up. He put his hands out in front of him, ready to be struck by my steel-toed boots. I was always afraid of hurting him by hitting him, but he told me not to be, with a dismissing laugh and an offhand 'Oh, I'm a lot tougher than I look!'. "Your kicks are probably going to be your strong point. You're tall, meaning they'll reach father, and can be used better. You should stretch more, because you won't be able to kick as well while using kicks like the moon kick!" He showed me a moon kick, where he lifted his leg high, for the most part straight up, and brought it down to the outside. It looked like it would smack an opponent on the way down from its high point.

"Right," I said, throwing a few roundhouses. Babylon Angel blocked and jumped backwards as I advanced on him, and then threw a front-snap kick at me. I responded as aptly as I could, jumping backward before his foot collided with my torso. Actually, I more of fell backwards, but I'd avoided the kick.

"Your footing was messed up! Always try to go back to your original position. It's a good place to both attack and defend from!" Babylon Angel said. "I've been doing this for a long time, you know!"

Due to footing issues, the front snap-kick was the only kick I'd been able to do right off the bat— things like the spinning back-kick and the roundhouse kick confused me and my poor, tangled-up footing to no end. It wasn't getting any easier as I grew tired, either. I was reaching wit's end, really. I figured I was about to simply pass out and fall on the permafrost.

"Okay, just kick at me in whatever way you want to. Only after you finish each kick or series of kicks, make sure that you return to the position you started in!" Babylon Angel said.

I sighed, exasperated. It definitely wasn't getting any easier…

* * *

"You can read _two_?" Babylon Angel asked me as I stared into the pale pink spell book. "Since when?"

"I don't know," I said. "I haven't opened it for a while… Maybe they just appear over time?"

Babylon Angel shook his head and replied, "Nope, spells are written when the mamono have an emotional breakthrough. I imagine that it'd be rather hard for someone who's possessed like that to have feelings poignant enough to spark the appearance of a new spell." He tilted his head to get a better look at the impassive face of the pink-haired mamono child. "Maybe it was the repressed part of her, or even possibly her subconscious that wrote the spell into the book...? Hmm…"

I looked at the spells I could read. 'Zarukeru' and 'Zayoru'. Nonsense words, I thought, but maybe they meant something in the Makai? Well, actually, I had practiced 'Zarukeru' during my 'kill the (stolen) cinderblocks' training, and it had given my partner claws of lightning, only said lightning was silvery in color. You could see her hands under the electric claws, which were lightweight and didn't seem to inhibit her movements, yet could devastate stone if read forcefully enough. Or so Babylon Angel had said. I'd never been able to muster up that much emotion.

Babylon Angel had remarked to me that 'Zarukeru' was an unusually long name for a first spell; especially because the spell in itself was in no way different from other first spells he'd seen. 'Well,' he had said, 'there are meaningless little oddities and details out there that people might actually waste their time worrying over before or maybe even despite the fact that they realize how trivial these things actually are. This is pretty much one of them."

"Anyways, Aston, training went well!" Babylon Angel said. "You can now successfully fend off muggers."

I laughed half-heartedly. "Joy. Can I really, now?"

"Yeah, you could! But you'll need more practice to win a real fight against a demon," Babylon Angel said. "You'd loose miserably, die, even, if the demon was ill-tempered enough. You're going to need more practice, but I think we'll have more than enough time to do that before the king gets here."

I sighed. More physical training was the last thing I wanted.

"I have a self-esteem boost for you!" Babylon Angel said. "Because I read a book saying that self-esteem makes people do better at things, and besides, you need some. You see, I've been watching the coming and goings between the Makai for a while now."

I nodded, ignoring the first part of his statement. "What's this about, then?"

"Well, I want you to beat someone up. You see, the King's six-year-old son has left the Makai in attempt to find me and rescue someone that I've abducted. He's found his bookkeeper, because he seems to have been staying in the same location with a group of persons. Usually demons without bookkeepers wander a lot."

I nodded, but then a thought crossed my mind. "You don't consider this boy a threat, do you?" I asked him, somewhat troubled by the idea that someone who was plotting something as big as Babylon Angel was could be deterred by the actions of a small child.

"Oh, goodness no," Babylon Angel said, "This is an act of kindness towards the Queen." He paused. "I'm going to kill her husband, so I'd like to leave the poor woman with her son. The prince and his human partner could find this place, you know. Underestimating others is never, ever good. However, I'm fairly certain that pitted against an entire army of ruthless demons at or above his strength, the little prince has a pretty good chance of dying. I'm also fairly certain that you could win a battle against him and his partner with little difficulty. Unless his partner is Batman or someone like that," he finished, but then added, "I've been studying Ningenkai pop culture!"

"Very good," I said, clapping. "So you want me to beat him up, and that's it?" I asked. I was feeling pretty good and rather confident in myself (and of course my pink-haired demon partner) because I had _two_, not one, but two, spells and super-strength in my arsenal.

"Pretty much so," Babylon Angel said. "It'd be a good chance to get some battle experience, too. I've seen more demons than I can count that were total messes in fights, but had somehow managed to survive previous battles or such, so they had some idea what they'd have to do in order to defeat opponents."

I nodded. I'd trust what he said on that. He was a four-thousand year-old demon, and I was a human girl in her very-early teens.

"Oh, and could you tell him that all the demons and the humans will be freed after I've finished the actions laid out in my evil plot, of course," Babylon Angel added. "Also, offer him my condolences about the eventual death of his father. And if he doesn't have a bookkeeper, just grab the book he has and burn it. No one's stopping you there…"

"You're so nice. I have no idea why you call yourself evil," I told Babylon Angel, voicing an opinion I'd been trying to stifle.

"Well, I'm going to _kill_ someone," Babylon Angel said, placing his hands on his hips. "Isn't that evil?"

"Not really," I said. I guess it was normal to have something someone said spark your memory about things you'd never think of otherwise, but the way Babylon Angel made me want to turn useless knowledge into analogies between it and a somewhat abstract concept in order to put my opinions forward was just insane. I just hoped I wouldn't stumble over words— my mind and my mouth rarely worked at the same speed. "I mean, it's not good, but plenty of heroes in movies and such kill others. It's just portrayed in a way that the ones who they're killing would do the world some good by kicking the bucket."

Babylon Angel grinned. "Is it time for one of your long-winded rants?"

"Sure, why not," I said, returning the smile. Now I had to come up with something… Great. Think, Aston, think. I decided to set up for it until I drew on something to sayd. "I need to give my speeches to _someone_, I suppose. You just happen to be around, and spoon-feed me chances to talk. Where was I? Ah, yes… Well, who's in the right a-all depends on perspective, but everyone knows that. Uhmm…." Up until my 'Uhmm…', I'd been stalling for time. "Ah! I-I mean, actor John Wilkes Booth, the man who killed the sixteenth president of the U.S. of A., believed he was a hero, and thought that his country would most definitely hail him as such for killing the great tyrant Abraham Lincoln. While running from the authorities and the newspaper headlines that told of the country's mourning of the death of Lincoln, he met an eighteen-year-old ex-Confederate soldier who was absolutely star struck— he asked for Booth's _autograph_."

I paused, smiling. I actually managed to say something semi-intelligent sounding, if I did say so myself. And I didn't chop my words up that badly! I felt smart, railing off all these things about the history of a country I'd never been to, although it had only been last semester that I had written my school paper on a deceased foreign leader about Abraham Lincoln. I'd picked up more (useless) information than I'd put in the report. But now I had to worry about sealing the deal. Crap. "Hmm… He… reeling in amazement and adoration, asked for the autograph of one of the most detested murderers in American history. He held this man, who had shot a fellow man… in the back of the head while he was trying to watch a play with his wife and friends, in the highest esteem."

"Hm. Make your point, I'm listening," Babylon Angel said, still smiling. I think he was trying to make my head implode or something.

"Well… uh, the young man, and Booth himself, at that, believed that Booth had done a great deed for their homeland, and that he was truly heroic. And… There were probably others, too, although most would agree that Booth's assassination of Lincoln was a very tragic misfortune upon the entire country.

"My point?" I said with a flourish that feigned confidence, "Perspective. Evil is pretty much relative."

Babylon Angel clapped. "You should go into theatre!" I could detect a hint of sarcasm in that, but it was rather hard to tell for sure.

"_No._ No, I shouldn't," I replied as flatly as I could, trying not to laugh. I thought I had pulled it off pretty well for something impromptu.

"Politics?" he asked, sounding less sarcastic than he had while issuing his last statement.

"Mm… politics… Maybe," I said, letting a small chuckle out. "I'll run for Parliament when I get back," I added jokingly.

"But you know, about being evil," Babylon Angel said, scratching his girlish chin, "even I think I'm evil. Not that I've got a problem with it, though. I'm going to do whatever's necessary to get what I want, regardless of who it hurts, and I don't loose any sleep over that prospect. That's pretty dang evil, I think."

I shrugged, not wanting to believe that my friend, one who I was assisting in his endeavors, no less, was evil. "Mmm, to each their own," I said, "to each their own."

* * *

I stretched. I had been sitting on a leather seat for the past few hours without movement, aside from the occasional stroll across the room to grab some notes someone had taken, a new copy of the list, or some of the other information Gash had brought back from the Makai with him.

I heard a very slight thump on the ground, caused by the dropping of a rather nice-looking ballpoint pen. I looked up to see Gash with a bundle of notes in his arms, most in Kiyomaro's hand writing.

"Sherry, could you _pleeease_ pick that up?" Gash asked me, rotating his wrist so that his hand was in position to grasp the pen if I chose to place it there. He didn't act much like a twenty-one year old, now did he?

I nodded. "Of course," I said, reaching down and lifting it up to put in his hand.

"Thanks!" he said, and he continued on his way over to the desk where Kiyomaro sat. He dropped the papers, and Kiyomaro looked over them, sighing. As the day had progressed, Kiyomaro, who had been leading up and coordinating our studies of the list of the missing from the Makai, grew snappier and snappier, and was almost to the point he would bite the head off of anyone who asked him a question he deemed to be 'stupid'. He'd been up for at least two whole hours before most of us, so I supposed it was understandable that he might be tired.

"Attention, everyone, attention!" Kiyomaro said. "Everyone hear me? Good.

"We've narrowed the one-hundred sixty names that had even a small chance of being the culprit's down to one-fifty four slightly more likely options after fourteen hours of hard labor. Good job, crew, we might catch this guy by Christmas," a rather testy Kiyomaro said. "Take a bow, it's intermission." He probably didn't want to repeat his sleep-deprived rampage— apparently someone had uploaded the footage caught of it on the house's surveillance cameras onto YouTube.

Kiyomaro yawned, and then continued to speak. "Except for Gash. I want you, Gash, to go back to the Makai and get as much information on these people as possible. Make it about as extensive as what you can pay to get online."

"Like MSN yellow pages?" Gash asked. "Remember way back when when you and your friends used those to get your teacher's phone number and you prank called him three times in on—"

"**Gash! **No one needs to hear about that!" Kiyomaro almost yelled, his cheeks turning slightly red of embarrassment. "It wasn't my idea to do it, either! …but to answer your question, no! Make it more extensive!" With this, he left the room.

"I'm just glad he's finally learning that he needs rest," I overheard Megumi telling Gash's wife, Tio. I'd never really spoken to Tio before, and knew her name only because I'd heard others call her by it.

"Well, he's been working the hardest out of all of us," Tio said.

Megumi nodded. "I only wish I could push myself as hard as he's been doing," she said, looking down. "I'm used to working long hours on sets and at the recording studio, so I know what that's like, but I don't really feel that I've been putting it all in to this…" She seemed to speak her mind easily to the younger woman, most likely because the two had been a team in the war determining the King of the Makai.

"Ah, Megumi! Are you okay?" Tio asked her, putting a hand on the woman's shoulder.

"Oh, no, I'm perfectly fine!" Megumi said. "It's just that… well… you can probably guess how it is, Tio."

Deciding to stop eavesdropping, I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand. I too was tired, and was ready for bed. I hadn't yet had the chance to call my children— although I fully trusted Mallory with Demi and everything else, it's only natural to want to check on your children when they're away from you.

I climbed the main stairway up to the level where the guest room that I had been assigned to was located. After a long day of sitting and staring onto a list of people I didn't know, trying to determine, using small amounts of information, who or who wouldn't kidnap others in order to raise an army, I was more than eager to change into my nightwear. Usually, I didn't notice how uncomfortable the clothes I wore could be, but today my body ached to get out of my heavy dress and stifling corset. From time to time, I questioned the sensibility in wearing such garments, or as my daughter called them, 'the anachronisms'.

I should have asked someone where a phone was located, I thought as I ascended the staircase. However, I had no idea what time it would be in Japan, and thought that it would not be best to call them at two-thirty in the morning. Back when Brago and I had traveled the world hunting after mamono, I used to have a very good sense of time-zones, but over the last few years, the adage 'Use it or lose it' had proven itself true. Besides, I had more issues here in America than they were probably having over there.

And, these issues, or rather this issue, would be my husband.

It was to be expected that Brago would be unconcerned with the problems of others, but _this_, this was absolutely ridiculous. He had no sympathy at all for the parents of a missing child, and after fifteen years of being a parent himself, I expected much better of him. He could, at the very least, try to look like he was trying to help a bit by staring at one of the lists, but he wouldn't even go that far. I didn't even know what he did during the day; he said sitting in with us was incredibly boring. It irritated me that he could be so rude about the disappearance of another's child, and in actuality, the disappearance of so many other people's children, both human and demon, too. Naoko, after all, was not the only one taken.

I probably would have locked Brago out of the room we were staying in (seeing as I knew that ripping down a door was past even him) for lack of wanting to be around him if he hadn't been in the room first.

He was staring out a large window, virtually into space, as he sat shirtless on a wood (most likely cherry) bench padded with a red cushion, which was tucked into the alcove that hosted the window. Apparently he had either seen my reflection in the glass or heard my footsteps, because to acknowledge my presence, Brago said my name without turning to look at me. "Sherry." And that was it.

I did the same. "Brago." I really had nothing that I felt like to say to him. An argument was hardly what I wanted to start now that I was so tired. I was more than ready to get into my nightgown and go to bed.

I changed in the closet into a silk lightweight yellow slip, a nice change from my dress, which really hadn't allowed me to find a comfortable position all day. I vaguely wondered if all would stare if I wore my pajamas and a house-robe to help them narrow down the names on the list, laughing to myself at the very thought of it. No, I couldn't do that. Now wearing my nightgown, I felt that the weight of the dress had been removed from my mind; I found myself more relaxed and in much better humor.

Hearing my slight chuckle, Brago turned his head towards me to give me one of his famous monosyllabic responses. "Hn?"

"Oh, nothing at all," I said. Now that I was in a better mood, I felt that I could attempt to talk with Brago about his behavior. I realized that the percent chance of him actually listening to me and acting on the matter was well below twenty, but I had to at least try. At times, I felt more like his mother than his wife, which was indeed an awkward notion.

I walked over to the bench, sitting down on the cushion behind Brago. I wrapped my arms around his torso, and rest my chin on his shoulder. I had to sit on my knees to give myself a boost in order to do this, because my chin would have been titled up at an uncomfortable angle and still not reach if I didn't do so; Brago was much taller than me. I never could remember when exactly Brago had grown so much. When we'd met, he'd been a good deal shorter than me; I easily had a foot on him. By the end of the battle for king, Brago had grown to about the same height as me, and now he loomed at least five inches over my head.

For a while, I was silent, waiting to see if he would say something before I could speak, although the chance was rather unlikely. But he did, turning his head slightly so he could see me in the corner of his eye. "You want something, don't you, Sherry?" he asked, smirking lightly.

I didn't exactly expect Brago to say that, but he was entirely correct in his assumption. "What?! Why on earth would you suggest that?!" I demanded, sitting further up on my knees and turning my head so I could better look at him. I could feel my face flush as it usually did in these situations, but tried to ignore it.

"How long have we known each other? I know you well enough to tell," he said, gripping my forearms in his hands. Brago seemed to be in a very, very good mood, otherwise he would already ended the conversation by being unresponsive for the most part, and going on to sit there and half-hear me out before cutting me off with a harsh 'no'. When his good mood came, mine abruptly ended.

"Oh? How can you tell, then?!" I asked.

He replied rather flatly. "Your face is red, meaning you were caught off guard by what I said."

"Oh, quiet!" I insisted as I attempted to pull my arms away in an effort that I knew would be futile against his great demonic strength.

"I was right," he said in an almost arrogant and condescending manner.

This irritated me slightly. "You're in a fantastic mood, aren't you, _sweetheart_?" I asked, impudence in my voice. I wiggled my arms so he'd get the note to let me go. I never called Brago 'sweetheart' or anything of the like, unless I said it to refer to him sarcastically, like in this situation. "What's made you so positively _cheery_?"

"Tch… Sherry, shut up," he said, still smirking, and still holding onto my arms despite my un-worded protest. In fact, Brago actually tightened his grip because of my movements. "…what do you want?" he asked.

"Forget about it!" I demanded. "And Brago, let go of my arms! I'm going to bed!"

Brago turned his head further to the side and pressed his lips against my cheek for a split second, as if to tell me that I had gotten myself into this position, and he wasn't going to let me out. It was obvious from his smirk that he found this all to be highly amusing. His almost non-existent sense of humor sure was an odd one…

Well, I'd better say something while I was stuck here in my husband's grasp. I didn't know how he'd respond to a 'Be Nice!' rant. Brago would probably be so disgusted about it he'd let me go, and then leave the building, probably to kill some small, furry animal and eat it raw. Those poor, poor squirrels. (Actually, Brago had made it a point once to tell me that he didn't eat squirrels or anything like them; he only ate larger animals that would provide better sustenance. I still teased him about the squirrels, much to his annoyance.) I straightened myself up on my knees and said his name to catch his attention. "Brago?"

"Hn?" He completely shifted his position on the cushion, moving his shoulder out from under my chin so that he was facing me, sitting Indian-style. For a moment, he had let go of my forearms so he could do this, but he recaptured them with such speed that I had no time to pull them away.

I decided to complain to him before I got to my point. "Do you really have to hold my arms like that?"

He gave me a look that said 'Do _you really expect an answer out of me?_' in itself. I sighed preparing to lecture him. "Brago, I am quite honestly disappointed in your behavior."

He raised an eyebrow-less brow and frowned, probably because this was one of the times that I sounded like I was his mother instead of his wife.

"You have not put any effort into this research whatsoever," I continued. "I don't care if you find it boring, but I'd have to wonder if you ever stop to think what Kiyomaro and his wife might feel. You know, what if it was your daughter that disappeared?"

"Mallory's strong enough to handle the situation on her own," Brago answered. "I've made sure of it."

I decided not to bring up Demi, who had not gone through the physical training my daughter had. Brago had never said much about our son, and even then, the few things he had said had never been in a positive light. (He hadn't been very fond of Mallory when she was that young, either…)

"But Naoko isn't Mallory," I said. "She was… she's only human, you know!" I couldn't believe I let slip a 'was' referring to Naoko. The impending feeling that Naoko was dead had still not left me, and I hoped Brago would not bring it up.

Luckily for me, he didn't. "Hn. I suppose so."

"Brago, do you think you could be a little more considerate?" I asked, bowing my head slightly while looking up at him with only my eyes, putting on a show of anxiety and anticipation. During the fifteen years of our 'marriage', I'd learned that looking at him in such a way would at least make him pause for the greater portion of a second in order to reflect over what I'd asked him before saying 'no' and brushing me off.

"…I'll consider it," he said, much to my surprise. With this, he released my arms and leaned back against the wall of the alcove, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Will you really?" I asked, looking up and smiling at him.

Brago exhaled gruffly and looked up at the ceiling without saying anything; although I could catch him mutter something incomprehensible which I could just tell was impolite and more than likely about me. Since I couldn't understand it, I pretended not to hear it. "I'd really appreciate that," I said, just to see if I could get an answer out of him. I got off of my knees and, crawling over his folded legs, moved closer to Brago so I could lean on his chest. Because I had gotten my way, I was once more in a great mood, but I wasn't so sure about my husband.

"How the hell is it that you manage to get me to agree to do everything that you say?" he asked, stroking my hair without looking at me. Apparently he _was_ in a good mood.

I probably would have replied differently if I didn't know it would probably start another argument. "Oh, I have my ways," I said. Besides, I liked that idea, even if it wasn't necessarily true. I guess it did have some merit, though.

* * *

Was that last part there a little OOC? o-o''' More than a little? 'Cause I dunno… (But they have been married for fifteen years… so that would factor. But still…)

And that's chapter eight.

I'd like it if you would **review**. If you don't, I shall lay the curse of tooth decay upon you and your descendants.

…I really need to think up better threats, don't I?


	9. Anesthesia

* * *

March of the God

**March of the God**

**Chapter 9: Anesthesia**

Yup. Sorry I took so long with the update, things're a little hectic with play practice, Tae Kwon Do, Confirmation and all.

Oh, and I did a few edits on previous chapters, if you want to check them out! -

And I am a tad mean to Folgore. That's because he's easy to be mean to, and because I love him. 

**Disclaimer:** Good news! I don't own Gash Bell! …why is that good news? You can guess. Makoto Raiku owns Gash. I own nothing else I may mention. However, I own my OCs. Any theft will result in me denouncing you for the whole internet to hear.

Note: This next scene takes place an hour or so later from the time Chapter eight ended, and the next cut-off will be… say, eight or so hours later. Time-zones have to be taken in consideration. Although I'm not perfectly sure, I think it would be earlier in Japan than it would be in the USA. In my imagination, Nazo Nazo Hakase lives in California, which is pretty far west, so the difference would be pretty big, but not as drastic as if, say, he lived near Chicago or in New York. I apologize for being lazy, and know I really shouldn't do it.

* * *

"It's locked…" Kiyomaro said to himself. Although he'd gone to bed earlier, a light bulb had popped on in Kiyomaro's head as he read his recreational book, which was a multilayered examination of the Jonestown massacre.

He had noticed that there had been a small notation next to the names of some of the people— apparently, according to Gash, they all belonged to a cult that was small, but very loud demonstrating their beliefs, and, seeing as they did so in such outrageous and unconventional ways were quite frequently arrested for disturbance of the peace. Among the information Gash had brought back were checkpoint records from the stations he had set up after the first five or six disappearances, in hope to track the kidnapper's movement and corner him.

Although that hadn't worked, upon returning to the library and looking at these records, Kiyomaro could see that every member of the cult (and a few that had gone un-noted) had traveled up north into the mountains in a huge drove, possibly to do worship or maybe (in accordance to Jim Jones) start a commune, and had gone un-tracked since then, hence being classified as 'missing'. Kiyomaro, while hoping that all these demons didn't have access to Kool-Aid and cyanide, was glad to get a good seventy-three marked off the list.

The list of demons that had vanished had dwindled almost by half because of Kiyomaro's discovery, but it would take another stroke of luck to reduce it by such large numbers again.

Kiyomaro tried the doorknob to his room again, thinking that it might be stuck. "_Megumi?!"_ the Japanese man called, knocking on the sturdy wooden door. Why'd she lock herself in? Kiyomaro wondered if he'd said something dumb earlier, but couldn't for the life of him remember what he might've said to make Megumi angry.

"_Megumi?!_" he called again, knocking on the door. Kiyomaro sighed. At least they were staying on the first floor… It didn't take the genius Kiyomaro was to know that windows usually were open in early summer, and that bug-screen wasn't exactly a tough obstacle to remove from the window.

Kiyomaro walked down the hallway towards the foyer. The color scheme, he noted, was in incredibly good taste considering Nazo Nazo Hakase and his little band of circus performers made their residence in the building. He had expected nothing less than lava lamps on spray-painted card-tables, the heads of animals hanging off the walls at sporadic intervals, tacky wallpaper with a bizarre print and random auto-parts strung from the ceiling on fishing wire, a far cry from the striped pale yellow and off-white walls, white furniture and simple floral arrangements that lined his walkway. Maybe there was a wing of the house he hadn't seen, Kiyomaro decided.

Before Kiyomaro could exit the building, he caught his reflection in a decorative Venetian mirror that had been hung for decorative purposes. For a moment, he blinked, and then decided to remove the glasses he'd been wearing. He didn't need them, anyways, and the lenses really were nothing more than glass.

Gash had told him he'd looked funny when he started wearing fake glasses, Kiyomaro remembered. The demon King, who had dedicated an hour-and-a-half of his day off to spend with his former book-reader, was twelve at the time, and he had told Kiyomaro that they made him look like his father, and all he needed to do to look just like Seitaro Takamine was gel his hair back and grow some facial hair. Kiyomaro took half of the advice to heart— by the next time his old friend dropped by, he was in progress of growing a goatee.

He shoved the glasses into the pocket of his slacks and continued outside without bothering to put on his shoes. The grass was cool, but not damp, and it felt good on bare feet.

Kiyomaro blinked once. And then twice. And then he groaned. "Folgore, what on earth are you doing?" he asked.

The middle-aged super-star looked up at Kiyomaro. He was standing, balanced on an outside windowsill, with his feet wrapped around the conical hat of a garden gnome. "Ahaha!" he laughed, "Big Boing, who time and gravity have been so incredibly kind to, has just returned home from her implant surgery, and this is her window…" started Parco Folgore, smiling in his usual manner.

"Don't you have anything better to do than look through the windows of others without their notice?" asked the Japanese man.

"Ah, not at the time!" Folgore said. "Now, if there were more beautiful, _single _women around here…"

"I hope you get arrested," Kiyomaro said flatly before turning to continue walking.

"It'd be the fifth time!" Folgore cheered. "I'm famous enough to get away with anything, you know!" The Italian singer and actor fell from his pointed red perch into the bushes that lined the perimeter of the mansion when the thrown spray nozzle of a garden hose met with his head.

Kiyomaro noted that his aim was pretty good when he wasn't suffering from sleep deprivation as he continued on his way.

Finally, he got to the window of his room. As he predicted, the window was open. Hoisting himself up on the decoratively large stone windowsill, the Japanese man pushed out the bug-screen with his foot and entered the room once he had popped the screen out of place. His wife had her head buried in the pillow, and at first Kiyomaro thought she might be crying.

"Oh! Kiyomaro!" Megumi said, "I'm sorry…" She wasn't crying, but she looked as if she had been crying a while ago.

"Uhm, it's no big deal…" Kiyomaro said, wiping his feet off with his hands. "If you wanted some privacy, you could've just told me. I could've slept in another room or gone down the street to a payphone and called the police on Folgore."

"Folgore?" Megumi asked.

"Well, he was…" Kiyomaro started.

Megumi said, "It's probably best if you don't tell me so I can sleep easy."

"Good choice," Kiyomaro said, plotting to grab Gash and the red book and cast a stronger spell than _Zakeru_ on Folgore if he ever found the grabby Italian celebrity peeping on his wife.

"But, you know… it's nothing like that. Why I locked you out, I mean. I was thinking, and I was a little upset… and then I don't know what I was thinking. You follow, right?" Megumi asked.

"I'm pretty sure I do," said Kiyomaro, blinking. "Continue."

"Well, I haven't really told anyone but Tio, but ever since we started researching, I began to feel like I can't do anything, that I'm letting you pull all the weight."

"That's not true," Kiyomaro said as he made his way across the room. He honestly didn't know whether she was doing so or not, but he had been so absorbed in looking at the list of names he hadn't really been paying attention to anything else.

Megumi sat up on the bed and grasped the sheets in her hands. "Back during the battle I used to be able to read Tio's spellbook and put up shields to block you and heal your injuries. Now I feel like I don't even amount to a dead weight."

"Come on, Megumi, you've been trying, and at least you haven't been counter-productive... like Kanchomé." Kiyomaro said. _Then again,_ he added to himself, _being more helpful than Kanchomé isn't exactly a difficult thing to do. _The duck-billed thing had been playing with a pen when it had decided to explode over several important pages of notes, meaning the subjects of them had to be recovered. Kiyomaro walked across the room and joined Megumi sitting on the bed.

"It doesn't make me feel any better. Naoko's missing, and I'm her mother… and all I'm doing is…"

"Enough," Kiyomaro said. "You're working just as hard as everyone else, and who knows, maybe it'll be you that uncovers the big clue that solves the case if you just keep at it! What we're doing now is just floundering around, hoping we get lucky. Some of us have, some of us haven't," the man continued, but then, with a smile, reached across the large bed, put a hand on Megumi's shoulder and added, "yet."

Megumi smiled slightly. "Kiyomaro, you always seem to say the right things."

"Do I?" he asked, sitting down and reaching for his book, but then something else came to him. "How do think Sawao's doing?"

"Nothing stupid, I hope," Megumi said. "I just pray he isn't having a party, seeing as he pushed so hard to stay home."

"I said how, not what," Kiyomaro said with a mock reprimanding tone. "Probably not with Mallory and Li Xiao there," he answered honestly. "Besides, Sawao isn't really as social as he seems."

Megumi nodded. Although her son constantly managed to become the center of attention among his classmates, he never seemed to be basking in the glow of popularity. He more of just went along with it, enjoying some of the benefits it brought here and there. "He's never done anything that would be considered 'bad', anyways," she said, smiling lightly.

"He's probably done _something_," Kiyomaro said. "We just don't know about it. Teenagers are like that. I mean… Mom didn't know we'd been sleeping together until I got you pregnant. Then I had to say something." Kiyomaro had always told his son that he and Megumi had been married before he had conceived him, seeing as he'd probably pass out if his father had ever told him, 'Good news, Kiyomaro, you're the result of the time Hana and I forgot to use a contraceptive!' so he figured it probably wouldn't have gone over well with Sawao.

Megumi looked startled. "Do you think…"

"Probably not," Kiyomaro answered. "He barely stays with the same girlfriend for two months… at the most. Unless, of course, that's why he drops them so fast…" He paused. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he added, knowing that Megumi had good reason to take a comment like that seriously. "Probably the worst things he's done are sneak out of the house to go hang out at the arcade with his friends until three in the morning, skip school, or some petty act of vandalism. We had to miss that, huh?"

"Yes." Megumi nodded at her husband's last remark, but then turned back to the prior topic. "Innocent until proven guilty," she said, leaning back onto the headboard of the bed. "I really don't believe he'd do anything worse than what you said, anyways."

"I think we did a pretty good job raising him, considering the circumstances," said Kiyomaro. He would have tacked 'Naoko, too,' onto the end of that, but for the time being, he'd rather not bring up his missing daughter. "Most kids resulting of teen pregnancies… well…"

"It was probably because of how great your mother was, and you decided to finish up school in a hurry instead of dropping out," Megumi said. "Before Sawao was four, you were an accountant, and by the time he was six you'd started a law firm. Sawao could say 'Daddy's a lawyer' instead of 'Daddy goes to school' or 'Daddy's on welfare' when they asked him what his father did in kindergarten."

"Not that a twenty-year old gets much business when people can go to the lawyers who have won twenty-thousand cases and are just as many years old," Kiyomaro said sourly. His young age, twenty-nine, still was a detriment to getting clients.

Megumi giggled at Kiyomaro's comment. "I almost lost my job to it, you know. Getting pregnant at fourteen sure makes you a good role model… It helped that we got married and that I took a break from singing, I think. It would probably have been worse if I had an abortion."

"It would've made it seem like you were shirking responsibility for what you'd done if you did… And you were a pretty good mother," Kiyomaro said. "Sure, you couldn't bring Sawao everywhere with you, but you never left him with a coffee-shop owner so you could get your nails done."

"But, when he was little, you left him with your friend Suzume and her mother once while you were going in for a correspondence course in Tokyo," said Megumi. "Suzume's very nice, sweet and all…"

"But Sawao was afraid that fruit was watching him while his back was turned until he was eight? I know," Kiyomaro sighed.

"What were we even thinking?" Megumi asked.

"What, letting my friends from school get near our son?" Kiyomaro asked. "Their oddities have never proven to be contagious, but I guess…"

"Not that!" Megumi said. "Our first time. And you're supposed to be a genius," she teased.

"Hormones?" Kiyomaro suggested. "Actually, I think it was probably because we missed Gash and Tio so much that we weren't even thinking straight. Hell, we probably weren't thinking, period. We just kind of wanted a hug or something, and it got out of control. _Way_ out of control," he said, embarrassed.

His mother had grounded him to his room for three months when she had found out that he'd gotten a girl pregnant, and this information, which Kiyomaro had been trying to cover up, was leaked by his mother to Suzume, who had a crying breakdown for the entire school to hear when the girl saw him in class. Just remembering it was enough to make him flush with humiliation. "Remember that month or two where we thought it'd be years until we saw Gash and Tio again, if ever?"

Megumi nodded. "It was pretty hard to wake up and not have Tio there."

"I actually was late to school the first day Gash wasn't around. I was so used to him pouncing on me wearing his gym-bag to wake me up that I slept right through the alarm without it," Kiyomaro said, smiling. "I felt so stupid when I rushed into class."

"I told you how hard it was," replied Megumi.

"Of course we'd been… …together for a little while when Gash ran into my room, ecstatic to tell me how fun it was to be king, even if it was hard work, about all of his new friends and how red Tio's face turned when he gave her a flower because it reminded him of her hair," Kiyomaro remembered wistfully. "He hadn't been able to stand the separation, either.

"Mom had been glad to see him, too," continued the Japanese man. "Everyone had, come to think of it."

Megumi nodded. "And Tio was so happy to hear that I was having a baby when she came back. I was sort of depressed and just too embarrassed to even think about it at the time, and if it wasn't for her visits, I don't know what I would have done. She made me feel like maybe it wasn't such a bad thing."

"When Gash heard, he asked me what I'd done to get the stork to come because I wasn't married yet," Kiyomaro said. "It was pretty weird explaining to him how it actually happened. I was more than a little upset, too, but Gash, constantly sending messengers and visiting a few times really was an upper."

"That was a month before the wedding, right?" Megumi asked. "I was… four months?"

"Right," Kiyomaro said. "Gash took a few days off for the wedding and the rehearsals so he could be the ring bearer."

"And Tio was the flower girl," Megumi added.

"I wonder if other kings ever took that much time for themselves… But I really should have suspected that he was going to make a speech at the wedding about how happy he was, seeing as he's Gash and all. Not that Gash didn't tip the punch bowl onto my great-aunt while trying to ladle some into his cup… but still," Kiyomaro said. "You know, I think Gash was the best thing that ever happened to me. I mean, I'd still have no friends, I'd probably have dropped out of school because of how bored I was, and if it wasn't for the mamono battle, I wouldn't have met you." He gave Megumi a broad smile.

"I think the same way about Tio, too," Megumi said, returning the smile and resting her head on Kiyomaro's shoulder. After a while, she said, "Kiyomaro?"

"Huh? What is it, Megumi?" asked her husband.

"Do you think we still would have gotten married if we hadn't messed up?" she asked. "I mean, not as soon as we did, but eventually? Or do you think we would have gone our separate ways?"

Kiyomaro thought for a few seconds. "I'm sure we would've still ended up together," he said, still smiling.

Megumi smiled and wrapped her arms around Kiyomaro, telling him, in a way, that because of this, all, she'd momentarily forgotten about Naoko's disappearance, something that had been eating at her for a while. Of course she couldn't take her mind off of the issue of Naoko forever, but for a short while, a bit of distraction was welcome.

"I love you," Megumi said, removing her head from Kiyomaro's shoulder to kiss his cheek.

"Love you, too, Megumi," he said, kissing her back. The two settled down in the bed, and began to drift asleep.

"After all that, there's no action? What a let down!" said certain Parco Folgore as he leaned through the window. He clamped his hands over his mouth as soon as he let that slip, and almost lost balance.

"_Folgore!_" Kiyomaro said, sitting up. Megumi, surprised, let out a tiny shriek. The next second, a book on the Jonestown massacre was airborne, and it hit its target in the center of the Italian man's forehead.

"Listen, you creep," he said, marching over to the window and looking at the man sprawled on the ground outside of it, "The next time I see you looking in someone's window, I will call the police on you! And I'll put this whole investigation on hold so I can get you convicted, and I will make sure, I don't know how, but I will find a way, that you get a cellmate who's been taking steroids and is very, very lonely!" With this, he shut the window, pulled back the curtains, and walked back over to the bed.

* * *

"_Ladedee, ladedum_…" The mamono heaved his catch through the alleyways, the bigger one slung over his shoulder and the small boy tucked under his arm. Over his shoulder, Babylon Angel had a library bag, which he had stolen while grabbing a few books, filled with things he had bought (using stolen money) from a shady and probably illicit pawnshop in the back alleys of Seoul, where he had stopped, with Aston, for dinner.

He had told Aston the approximate location of the house that the King's son was staying in, and he had left to wander the streets of Mochinoki. It was Aston's job, not his. Being beat up by a minion instead of the villain himself might also have a small psychological impact on the boy, telling him that the villain his very self was immeasurably more powerful, seeing as he was without fear of an uprising in an army with such strong minions, so he should stay away.

Truthfully, Aston and her partner were his strongest underlings. A select few had managed second spells, the team of the amber book (neither member manipulated), the team of the crème book (human manipulated), the team of the periwinkle book (demon manipulated) and the team of the saffron book (human manipulated), he figured, but he'd only spent time working with Aston and her partner, team of the pale pink book (demon manipulated). He was impersonally nice to the other teams, but he never learned anything about them.

To him, the two members were one entity, named by their book color, and their only details were their appearances and, more importantly, whether he had been made to manipulate the human, the mamono, neither or both. He didn't want to get very attached to those he was throwing in the line of fire, although he felt Aston would be in the line of fire as much if not more than the others.

Babylon Angel never really thought that he should do anything unnecessary to gain a totally unfair advantage over the King in his battles. Sure, he'd outnumbered him and picked the landscape where they were to face off carefully, but that was because the King was so much stronger than him. In a fair fight in an unbiased environment, Babylon Angel would barely be able to hold his own, let alone win.

However, he constantly seized (usually useless) things that were of interest to him, even if they were currently in the possession of others. (No wonder Aston had told him that she thought he was a kleptomaniac.) Two half-mamono were interesting enough, but the fact that they gave him a chance to play with his new toy, chloroform, well… Babylon Angel couldn't help but 'steal' them.

He wanted to see what they could do, what sort of power they had, how they'd react to manipulation. He hadn't even known there were half-mamono, although he supposed they could have been conceived during the battle, but the little one looked at least ten years too young for that to have happened. Babylon had felt the presence of a demon or so when he was in France, but he'd been too busy to check it out at that point. When he'd finally finished gathering his army, he'd forgotten about it.

Babylon Angel had been sitting on a bench in a bus stop situated on a deserted street, sifting through the bag of things he had bought in the Seoul pawnshop so he could get a better look at them. He'd acquired four (illegal) butterfly knives, one of which he had given to Aston earlier, a keychain, a charm that looked like it had been made out of ivory, a whole pack of car air-fresheners, a few books, a silver ring, half a gallon of chloroform and a rag. (The rag had come with the chloroform.) He was distracted and his senses were dulled by his focus on his new possessions, but even the most clueless demon would be able to tell, by scent if by nothing else, that the two had a mix of human and demon blood.

One was a tall girl of maybe sixteen (although Babylon Angel figured by her face that she could be younger) and the other was a small, scrawny child with large eyes. They looked rather human, aside from the fact that the older one had silvery white strands in her hair, but the human of the team of the amber book (neither member manipulated) had some hair dyed pink and the human of the team of the harlequin book (human manipulated)'s hair reminded Babylon Angel of an orange-and-white striped tent, so he supposed that she didn't turn heads for long amongst the crowd in Ningenkai.

Deciding he'd question them later, Babylon Angel soaked his rag in chloroform, quietly walked over nonchalantly and clamped the rag over the face of the older one, the girl, from behind. She'd immediately kicked shook him off, slightly drowsy from the anesthetic she had just been forced. After Babylon Angel denied he was Naoko Takamine (who, apparently, the two had known) and announced he was going to kill the king, there was a small struggle, but Babylon Angel easily got the girl under control and gave her more chloroform until she passed out. He'd talk with her and maybe manipulate her when he got back to his Lair-of-Evil, he decided.

The boy had gone easily. Babylon Angel asked him if he was going to struggle, to which he responded no. Babylon Angel then knocked him out with the chloroform for the fun of it.

It all wasn't much to speak of.

Now he was trudging off the main road towards the park bench he had promised to meet Aston on. No one went to the park at night, according to a local he had talked to that had been selling candy from a cart. There were a few desperate bums (intent on mugging passersby with broken bottles) that took shelter under a bridge there. One of them yelled about doomsday, so it was worth the visit in the day if you had time to kill, said the man.

"Well, my friends, I suppose we'll be waiting here until Aston gets back," he said, speaking to the two unconscious hybrids. "Enjoy the sights and the sounds until then," he said.

* * *

It was pretty late when the three of us left the karaoke booth. Only the three of us because Mallory's brother had fallen asleep in the booth, and after waking him up, he said that he was still tired. Li Xiao volunteered to take him home ahead of us, seeing as she'd already sung her heart out. So only Mal, Teo and I remained as we walked home.

"Carry-okie is fun!" Teo said, "Thanks for picking my songs, Sawao!"

"You're welcome," I said, responding to that particular statement for the seventieth time. "It's pronounced karaoke, though."

"But thanks! You're really good at singing, though!" he said.

"You think so?" I asked. It's not that I'm a good singer. Really, my voice in itself is nothing amazing. If I ever want to sing when I'm older, my mom's voice coach told me, I'd need to rely on the magic of recording studios to make it sound even decent. It helps that I really try and put all of it in, though, and I have good enough pitch to get by.

Teo nodded. "And it was really, really nice of the lady who brought us the drinks to let us have free rounds!"

"Yeah, Eri's really nice," I said. Actually, she probably only paid for some of our extra time in there because, although she was a third-year in highschool and I was only in middleschool, we sometimes went out. We hadn't ever really been dating, we just… went on dates.

"I wonder if Li Xiao got Demi home by now," Mallory said. "She better not have dragged him out for ice-cream or something like that. …knowing her, volunteering to take him home while we finished up was an excuse to do just that. He said he was tired, so he should rest."

"Well, she's going to have to face big sis's rightful anger if she has," I laughed. I took off my large aviator sunglasses and shoved them in my jacket pocket. It was dark out, and I doubted that I would be bothered by my mom's psychotic fans at this hour.

"Shut up. You're no better than Demi in the fact that you need my supervision," Mallory said coldly. With this, she flipped the end of her messy hair slightly in a rather condescending manner. She looked out to the side.

Teo shot her a glare, although furtive and nervous, that read of clear dislike and at least a bit of disgust before averting his gaze toward my shoes.

"Ouch," I said, looking off in the same direction Mallory had, where I caught a glimpse of a disheveled man with what looked like a kitchen knife sticking from his worn coat's pocket. Clearly that was a mugger. Huh. Apparently Mal had seen him before hand…? Then again, she was a demon, and she had been learning how to fight since she was six. Maybe there was some technique that you could sense people with…?

I shot a glance at her. That would sure be a useful power…

"I smelled him, that's all," Mallory said, noticing my inquisitive gaze. I looked away, a little bit embarrassed that I had been caught staring. "It's not like it's anything special, most demons have heightened senses. My nose isn't nearly as sharp as most mamono, but it can single out a person nearby. The little prince smelled him too… Right?"

Teo shook his head. "N-no… I'm not so good at… I mean, I've never really had to…"

"You mean you never had any practical use of sharper senses, so you let them dull?" Mallory asked. "What a waste. Imagine if I was just another human. That really wouldn't have ended well, would it?" she smirked, clearly proud of herself and her abilities.

Even if he had a knife, the mugger wouldn't have gone for it. I knew the muggers of the city pretty well. We had him outnumbered, two (seeing as small children like Teo didn't count) on one. Usually, they waited for solitary victims. I'd been mugged three times, thanks to my habit of sneaking out of the house at night.

Once I'd lost my wallet, coat and shoes to a guy with a gun on the very street we were walking on now. He did get arrested, though, because I reported the mugging the next day, only I said that it took place three hours earlier. I was called into the police office later that week, and I got my stuff back, except for around one-hundred eighty yen. Coincidentally, that was the price that the cheapest bottle of twist-off-cap booze in the local liquor store was advertised at. Or not.

The second time, the attempted mugger had a tiny, tiny pocket knife. I made a run for it, and got away. The third, which really shouldn't count, I was accosted under an overpass on my way to school one morning by a bag lady with a plastic clothes hanger and a pointed stick. I ended up going to the school nurse with a small hole in my forearm for a bandage and disinfectant.

"Ugh, I really hope they didn't get mugged," I said, looking back at the man in the alleyway. "There are some creeps around here with guns and knives, y'know…"

"Knives?!" Teo said, sounding as if he were more afraid of the prospect of a knife than he was of that of a gun. Then again, there probably weren't guns in the Makai. Demons had super-powers. Knives… well, they were practical tools, too, so I could see how those might have a reputation of being sharp in the other world.

"Hey, would being shot hurt one of you guys?" I asked. "Demons, I mean."

"It'd depend," Mallory answered. "One of our fathers, stronger demons, probably wouldn't be that affected if they got shot. The bullet would make a superficial wound, if one at all. However, he and I would be injured. If the bullet hit a bone, the bone probably wouldn't shatter, but would still receive damage. Our flesh wounds would heal faster that one of yours. The kid," she said, referring to Teo, "would heal faster that I would, seeing as he's a full-blood mamono. If a bullet hit a vital organ…we'd have better chances of being saved with immediate medical help, but without it we'd still be screwed."

"I'm not 'the kid'!" Teo insisted. "I'm a prince! _Your _prince, since you're a demon!"

"Tch. Well, _your royal highness,_ I most humbly beseech that you shut the hell up before I hurt you," she said, causing Teo to shoot her a glare for the use of the word 'hell'. Mallory wouldn't actually hit him, but she was good at intimidating and belittling others. She removed a hand from her pocket and placed it a little higher up on her hip, a small motion that served to make Teo draw backwards a slight bit. She was older and bigger than he was; it was only natural someone be afraid of someone that could lord both age and size over him.

We continued on in silence for a while.

"The streets are awful empty now, huh?" Teo said. "There were so many people out during the day…"

"Well, we're walking through a business district now," I said. "If we were in a commercial district— one with lots of stores and restaurants, like the one by the karaoke booth— there'd be lots of people out, and if we were in a residential district, we'd probably see a few people coming home from late dinners and things like that."

"Oh," Teo said. "It's kinda scary, when it's this quiet," he said. "You barely even hear those car things from the other part of the city, and they're so loud! You know, I think Rue'd like the busy part of the city. She always really liked people." He seemed to sadden at the thought of his missing cousin, but then cheered up again. "I think when I save Rue, I'm going to take her to a Ningenkai city! Even if they're scary when you're alone, they seem like they're lots of fun when you're with nice people like you and Li Xiao and Demi, Sawao!" I noted that Mal wasn't included on the list.

"They're different from the ones in the Makai. You always know where you're going in those, and there aren't very many huge buildings aside from the palace, unless they have a super-important reason to be that tall," Teo said. "A lot of the places here don't really seem to have all that much reason to be super-huge!"

"It's to save space," I informed. "We build upwards to save more room on the ground." When I'd been younger, Mochinoki'd been a smaller sort of city, the type that wasn't a metropolis, but was big enough to give the city that 'urban jungle' feel. There was a small, fast hub, and loads and loads of suburbs. Most of those suburbs, including the house I'd grown up in, the one my father grew up in at that, were torn down to turn into areas for high-rises. We just moved out to a bigger house in a nicer suburb when that happened. Mom was expecting Naoko, so we needed more space, anyways. I hadn't been that old when the city was smaller. I wondered what it was like for Dad, seeing the city he'd grown up in change. "We only have so much land, you know. There's homes, stores and offices stacked on top of each other."

Mallory walked alongside us quietly with her hands tucked into her pockets. She was either uninterested or doing a very good job of pretending to be so in our little conversation. She seemed uneasy though, looking in the direction of our house in the same fashion that she had displayed earlier as we passed the potential mugger.

"Ohh! But, you know," Teo continued, "I don't think Uncle would like her going to such a big place. Dad said he was really surprised when he saw how protective Uncle was of Rue. I… I guess that was how he'd gotten hurt, trying to save Rue," he said, sounding a little upset again.

I'd heard something about Gash's brother getting hurt while I was eavesdropping on the King and my father. Evidently, Teo was in better cheer from the evening of relaxation and karaoke we'd had, or he was determined to think positive, happy thoughts, because Teo soon shook all sadness from his voice and continued on. "But I think I'd take Rue to dinner at that restaurant and to sing carry-okie!"

"Karaoke," I corrected, smiling. "I'll have to take you two to the park. There's a weird old guy who yells about doomsday. For about…six years, he's always been claiming it'll come next year, yet it never does. We'd have to go in the daytime, though, because there are all sorts of weirdos in the park at night…"

"Hey, I recognize these buildings!" exclaimed Teo. "Do you think we're by your house, Sawao?"

"I know it," I replied. "See, I know most of the families. Manabe, Taniguchi, Kadono, Raiku… I listed some of the families that lived in the large ready-built houses that we passed, even if I barely knew them. "You know, Mr. Raiku's a mangaka," I told Teo, wondering if he knew what a mangaka was.

"Oh! Mom and Dad told me some things about manga! They're comics, aren't they?" Teo asked. I nodded. "What types of comics does Mr. Raiku draw, Sawao?"

I shrugged. Usually when I picked up a manga anthology to kill time if I skipped school or something, I tended to ignore the author's name.

"We're at your house, aren't we?" Teo asked.

"Mm-hm. Li Xiao better have left some hot water if she showered," Mallory said. I don't think she meant to say it out loud, seeing as she frowned as the words left her mouth.

"You already took two showers today, when I woke up and when we came back from lunch! You're not dirty!" Teo said. "You're selfish," he added quietly, but not loud enough for Mallory to hear.

"Princess Tutu? Demi? We're _hoooome_!" I called once we got in.

No answer.

Usually, with Li Xiao, at least, you expected a reply. I punched in the key code on the intercom we'd had installed a few years back and pushed the button for the speakers. "Li Xiao. It's us, we're home." My voice could be heard throughout the house on speakers, including the ones in the foyer we stood in. "Could you give us a shout if you're here?"

No answer.

"Huh. Maybe she's asleep?" I suggested.

"I'll check," said Mallory, walking up the stairs.

"I really hope they got home okay," Teo said, and started with the 'what if's. He began to walk towards the kitchen, where we had left his red book laying on the counter.

"Don't worry, I'm sure they're fine," I said, taking the book from the counter and examining a few of the pages before offering it to Teo. There that word was, _Zakeru_.

* * *

"She's not anywhere! Neither's my brother, of course! Where in hell are they?" I heard a voice from the inside, probably that of a preteen boy, call.

"How should I know, Mal? Did you check the basement?" asked an older male voice. He sounded my age, but it was hard to tell.

Squeezed against the wall on the side of the house, shifted my weight slightly in the mulch, my blue jeans pulling tight over the butterfly knife Babylon Angel had bought for me in Korea as a last means of defense.

'Aston,' he had said, 'If you find yourself in a corner, people are quicker to listen to knives than fists, regardless of the strength behind the fists. I highly doubt you will end up in a place where you need to, though, better safe than sorry!'

My pink-haired partner stood quietly beside me, her dull purple eyes letting off the faintest glow. She was uninterested in her surroundings, although she'd most certainly never been to Japan and there was a lot to take in.

"Of course! You heard me run down the damn stairs, didn't you?!" came the younger male's voice.

"P-please, don't say those words, Mallory!" said someone who sounded like a young boy. "It sorta bugs me, if you haven't really…"

"Shut up, kid. I don't know what it's like in your fantasy palace, but people in the real world say things a lot worse than 'damn' and 'hell'!

"Goddamnit, I'm going to look for them. If Li Xiao comes back with my brother, make sure she knows she's in serious shit when I get back!" said the voice that resembled that of a younger man's. (However, I noted that the owner of the voice was named 'Mallory', which usually was used as a girl's name.) I heard some footsteps and the noise of the front door swinging open. I heard running footsteps pounding down the sidewalk, and they finally disappeared somewhere down the next block.

But now I knew that this was the right place. 'Mallory' had said that the child had lived in a palace, so I was pretty certain that this was the Prince. Whatever else was going on wasn't my issue.

I'd been snooping around the neighborhood (hoping that no one saw and called the police on me), seeing as Babylon Angel couldn't tell me the right house exactly. Most of the people had been out, so I had been getting impatient waiting for any of them to return.

However, I was faced with somewhat of a dilemma. What to do now? Knock on the door and tell the Prince and the person who I figured must be his book-reader I was there to beat the living daylights out of them? I didn't like the sound of that. Besides, he could just lock the door on me, and I'd have the whole neighborhood out on the streets if I took it out.

I walked around into the backyard and sat on the steps up to the patio, thinking. I rested my pink book on my knees and my elbows on my book as my partner tagged along. I'd never had a patio, I thought, getting distracted. A friend of mine did. It connected to the living room outside the kitchen… There it was …I turned around. There it was, a door leading inside. I stood up and turned the handle, but didn't open it. It was unlocked.

I just hoped to God that they didn't have a security system or that they had forgotten to turn it on, otherwise I'd have to make a run for it and explain the whole thing to Babylon Angel. He'd laugh it off and say it was okay, I knew, but still, I dreaded horribly the thought of disappointing him… Babylon Angel said I was stronger. I knew I could win if I faced off with them. I wouldn't disappoint him then.

I supposed I should play the part of evil once I got in. Sounding evil and cruel would be more effective.

I grasped the handle once more and turned it, pulling the door out towards me to open it.

* * *

"Hello, Prince of the Makai."

Teo paid no attention to the girl who sat on the armchair, although she had addressed him. Instead, his large orange eyes were riveted on the small silvery-pink haired girl standing next to her on the floor that wore her hair up in two pigtails. "R-rue?!" he gaped, almost dropping the red book he held on the floor. "Rue, Rue! It's you, I'm so glad to see you! You're okay!"

But Rue did not answer; she only looked at Teo with her purple eyes. Rue had always had purple eyes, but these were not her own. Instead of the brilliant violet of usual, these were a dull yet luminous mauve. "R-rue…?"

After taking a look at Rue, the older girl, the human, who Teo thought had to be Sawao's age, spoke again. "I suppose this is your book-reader, then," she said, motioning at Sawao.

Teo sensed a bit of malice in the girl's statement, although he could never be quite sure. Still, he figured he should defend Sawao. "No, Sawao isn't! Who are you, and what's the matter with Rue?!" he demanded.

"I am an envoy of Babylon Angel, the soon-to-be-King of the Makai," she said. "I don't honestly know what he did to her," she added offhandedly, "Mind-control, basically, but I don't know the details."

Teo's eyes widened. Rue, under mind control? "My dad's the King for another…" Teo decided he couldn't count it on his fingers, but knew his father was near the beginning of his reign, "…thousand years! That's not soon!"

"Babylon Angel will assume the throne when he kills your father," she said as if she were talking about the carnival coming to town instead of the murder of the father Teo loved and adored. "Now, I'm merely warning you that you shouldn't mess in the affairs of Babylon Angel if you want to live. Imagine your poor mother, inconsolable…" She let out a slight laugh.

Teo's eyes widened. The way she spoke… it angered him the same way Mallory did. He wanted to shut her up, he really did, but he couldn't. Mallory was bigger and older than Teo, and this girl… she had a book. She had a book and Rue. The bookkeeper-less Teo couldn't contend in a fight, and he knew it. Even if his bookkeeper was standing right next to him, he could never hit his cousin, and he doubted that he could go after just the tall auburn-haired girl that was Rue's bookkeeper.

Sawao finally spoke up. "Listen, I don't know who you are, but get out of my house," he said. "This is private property, shoo."

"I knew that," she said coolly. She lifted the pink book from her lap in her hand, and stood. She held it out in an opened position and the book began to glow.

* * *

Eighteen pages on Word.

I hope it wasn't too bad. I've never really written with Megumi before, and Kiyomaro only in humor… …so… yeah.

Reviews, please?


	10. SmallScale Invasion

* * *

**March of the God**

**Chapter 10: Small-Scale Invasion**

Summer is here! Ah, air conditioning, mah love! : D

So, here's chapter ten, proof of why this needs to be 'T' for language.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Konjiki no Gash Bell. If I did, you'd have to go to an adult bookstore to get the manga. pr0nlol. I own my OCs, though. If you're a thief, I hope you get a nasty case of athlete's foot that won't go away.

Oh, and I can't write fight scenes well. I apologize for the suckiness of this one.

Part one and part two happen at roughly the same time. And the second-to-last part happens pretty much at the same time as the one before it and the one after, seeing as both are inserted between split-second breaks. And the second-to-last one has some time-zones going into effect.

* * *

"_Zerukeru!_" the girl said, her pink book raised and her gray eyes narrowed.

_Ah, damn_, I thought as I moved to the side, grabbing Teo's arm. I figured the attack would be a projectile, or something that shot at us. My parents had told me many basic spells were like that when they'd told me stories about their battles.

Well, I was wrong. Instead, the small pink-haired girl… Rue, as Teo had called her, surged with electricity from her core to the furthest parts of her appendages. At her fingers, the charge stayed, forming long claws around her tiny hands. Silvery, translucent claws which crackled with electricity.

"S-sawao… run," Teo squeaked to me, his eyes locked onto the girl that I assumed to be his cousin. "Go outside! Run down the street, as far as you can! You'll get hurt bad if you stay… I-I c-c-can't fight back at all!"

"Easier for us, then, isn't it?" said the tall girl, brushing her thick auburn bangs to the side with the hand that wasn't holding the book.

Rue lunged at us. I was frozen on the spot, feeling for certain that I was going to die, or at least be hurt. I knew I couldn't grab Teo's book in a split second and read off whatever was written in there.

I closed my eyes, terrified. My family's been stalked by weird fans of my mother's. I've had a gun pointed at me by a mugger. But I could call the police if someone was prowling around on the sidewalk, trying to peer into the windows. I could turn my pockets inside out and give the mugger my wallet. There was nothing I could do know.

I could turn my pockets inside out and give the mugger my wallet. I could give the girl the book, and tell her to burn it. I wouldn't get hurt, neither would Teo.

"_Surrender the book." "You've heard the stories. Teo will disappear and they'll leave!" "Say you'll surrender!" "It's the only thing you can do! The only way you can escape!" _Something... messages of cowardice, I suppose, shot through my head, clamoring to be heard before the others, although they all bore the same message. _It's not your battle. "Surrender the book!" "Tell the girl you'll surrender the book without a fight!" "Give it up; play it safe! There's no way in hell you can win!"_

But it was too late for that; we were right in the line of fire, and the trigger had been pulled. I heard something fall as I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for the impending attack.

Nothing happened.

I opened my eyes to see Teo clutching Rue around the elbows. He'd dropped his book on the floor, jumped at her and taken hold. "Sa-sawao…run for it!" he said. The prince was shaking, trying to hold his cousin back from me. She didn't squirm in an attempt to wriggle free, or increase her force, she just seemed to be pressing in our direction.

I should have followed his advice, I should have ran and found Mallory or someone. I should have surrendered the book. I didn't. Instead, I picked up the red book Teo had dropped.

The older girl, who was from England or somewhere, judging by her accent, widened her eyes in surprise. "…ahm…"

I opened the book up, and without looking at the word I knew to be written, I closed my eyes and cried, "_Zakeru!_"

My eyes flew open. Teo's own went empty and his mouth was forced open by a power unseen. Lightning shot from it at Rue, and it hit the girl point blank. It sent her flying backwards into the wall, right by a stand where I stored my CDs. The impact damaged the drywall and knocked over my large CD rack, cases of discs spilling onto the floor. For a moment, I worried about my CDs and the electric guitar that I had hung in the room as decoration, (Sure, I had another, better guitar to use when I was actually playing, but why waste a perfectly good instrument?) but then I became more worried about the little girl I'd just projected across the room with a lightning bolt.

Rue slid to the ground from the spot of impact, blinking slowly and deliberately to attempt to cleanse her eyes from the dust of the drywall. Her hands remained at her side, the electrical claws they brandished singeing the carpet. Now I was more worried for myself.

"Sawa… Sawao?!" Teo looked back at me, orange eyes opened in surprise. In the moment Teo took, gaping of what was probably confusion and shock, Rue lunged.

"Look!" I said. Teo turned quickly and lost balance, taking a fall which saved him from being run through with his cousin's electrical claws. However, on the ground, he was a sitting duck.

Teo looked up at Rue in alarm. "Rue! If you're in there… please!" he begged, still seeming to be dazed and confused.

Teo was looking at Rue. I took this opportunity to attempt to cast _Zakeru_.

"_Za-_" I began, but I was cut off by the English girl's yell.

"Attack the human," she commanded.

As Rue wordlessly obeyed her bookkeeper's order, my mind began screaming the same message from before. _Surrender! Give in! Don't get hurt. It's the best for everyone. Sawao, you idiot, why did you read the spell to begin with?!_

Before I could give the white flag, I felt a searing pain in my left arm as I involuntarily tottered to the side. My arm had been grazed with one of the claws as I collapsed onto my right elbow, which I couldn't feel because of the intense stinging of the wound I had just received. I put my hand to it, only to realize that it wasn't bleeding.

The heat from the electricity must have instantly cauterized it, I thought, when I realized that I was still in danger. Rue flew at me again, only to be intercepted by Teo tackling her from behind.

His head was buried in her back as he held her down as she reached at me with her claws. "_Z-zakeru!_" I read again, slightly shakily.

Instead of its intended target (which I was sure it would have hit), the bolt of lighting met the wall. It hadn't been as strong as my previous attack, but it would have given the girl quite a shock if it would have made contact. Then I noticed that Teo was looking to the side. He'd looked away from the target.

"Teo!" I called, "What the he—"

"I… I'm not hurting Rue! I'll protect you from her, Sawao, but I'm not hurting her!" he responded, throwing his weight around to stop her from getting to her feet. "I-I'm g-going… I'm going to save her! Not hurt her!"

* * *

This wasn't working out very well at all. The Prince of the Makai was restricting my partner's movement too much for her claws of lightning to be effective. I thought of using _Zayoru_ to attack the older boy for a moment before remembering that during training with Babylon Angel, I had discovered that the two spells couldn't work at once.

"What the hell do you mean, not hurt her?! She's trying to kill us, damnit!" the teenager yelled as he began to get to his feet.

"I'm not hurting my cousin! I'm not hurting Rue!" he yelled, sounding far more resolute than he had when issuing his previous statement.

I walked across the room at a brisk pace to the Japanese boy, who had just stood up. He was about my height, maybe a little taller. We stared at each other for a second before a forced smirk came across my face. This seemed to worry him. I raised my leg high in a painfully slow manner as our partners struggled on the floor, and snapped it out quickly at the knee, pushing the brunette back using the ball of my foot instead of the metal-tipped toes. I didn't put all that much into it, but the power behind the attack surprised me.

He flew backwards, clutching the book. His landing was softened by a blue couch that rested against the wall, but clearly he had been injured by the attack. He grabbed his stomach with his free hand, mumbling various obscenities. After taking a few breaths, he staggered to his feet. "Get the other one, then! Get the one with the book! Look at her!" he called. His book was shining in his hand, a telltale sign he was going to cast a spell.

The Prince obeyed. He looked straight at me, away from my partner… who the Prince had called Rue. _Zerukeru_ had worn off, and she seemed to be having a considerably more difficult time struggling against her cousin.

"_Zakeru!_" I dove down onto a pile of fallen disc cases, many of them cracked, the instant the words left the Japanese boy's mouth. The drywall took the impact instead of me, crumbling off the cracked and scorched studs as the smoke cleared.

"_Zayoru!_" I called from the floor. The book glowed and a small, round disc formed in Rue's hand. All it took was a flick of her wrist to send the silver object over the Prince's small body. It came down on his other side, a glowing thread of electricity connecting it to Rue's palm. Instinctively, she made a few motions with her little fingers which made it loop around the Prince's body, the thread binding him, and sent a shock through him before the entire spell faded.

"R-rue…" he squeaked as he fell on top of her, "w-wake up… Wake up… _please_!"

Rue stood, brushing him off of her. One of her pigtails had come loose from her struggle with her cousin, and her dress looked a little frayed from the electrical shock she had taken. She bled slightly from the back of her head due to her impact with the wall.

"Who the hell are you?" The Japanese boy asked, holding the book like he was bracing for an attack.

"I told you," I answered. "I am an emissary of—"

"I heard that the first time," he said, his shoulders heaving slightly. "What's your name?!"

I wasn't going to tell him my name. I wasn't. Maybe he would laugh himself to death if he heard that it was 'Aston Martin'. A dead bookkeeper would keep the Prince out of trouble, wouldn't it? I decided that death by laughter wasn't a good approach.

"Does it really matter?" I asked.

"Yes, it does. You broke into my house, and screwed up my living room," the brunette across the room said as if issuing a challenge. He began to straighten up. "If I had a phone on me, I would be calling the cops."

The Prince sat up, panting as he tried to stand.

"So I at least get a name," the boy explained.

I wasn't telling him my real name, that much I was adamant about. Aston in itself was a boy's name, and I always had been just a little embarrassed by that, which was really just icing on the cake. I was considering just casting _Zayoru_ in his direction, but I did figure I owed him something for what this would do to his family's homeowner's insurance premiums.

I looked at my feet, thinking. Then I noticed the albums, a few of which had their track listings facing up at me. I only caught a few things, song titles or part of them, that could be used as names. Marguerite, Irene, Patricia, Rudy, Kim, Xavier… None of them sounded very imposing. I wouldn't use 'Rudy' or 'Xavier' anyways. It'd defeat half of the purpose. If I had heard any of the songs, I would probably have picked the one I liked best, but I hadn't ever listened to a single one of them.

The boy readjusted his grip on the red book he held, causing me to pick the next thing I saw. "My name Proteus," I blurted. I thought that it might be a figure from Greek or Roman mythology, but I could have been wrong. I just hoped it wasn't something embarrassing, which would also defeat the purpose. "You're in no position to question it! _Zerukeru!_"

Once again, Rue formed claws of lightning before charging the brunette, leaving her cousin alone behind her. The next moment she had been hit over the head with the long pole of a floor lamp, which had been swung by the Prince's bookkeeper.

The Prince gasped in shock as she fell to the floor. Rue stood again, a small stream of blood trickling down her face from somewhere beneath her pink hair. The Prince babbled unintelligibly until Rue turned on him. He looked away, straight at his book owner, highlighting his refusal to injure his cousin.

…this should have been over already. I had two spells, they had one. I guess I wasn't stepping into it enough.

* * *

Mallory's anger and annoyance had turned to urgency as she combed the streets for her fellow half-mamono. The girl had began to worry that this wasn't merely Li Xiao's typical screwing around, but that something had _actually happened_ to the two.

Her nose could find no trace of the two, no matter how distinct their scents were. Mallory momentarily cursed her human blood— if she had been pure demon, her sense of smell would be strong enough to detect things out of the immediate area and could trace the lingering scent the two left in an attempt to track them. However, her sense of smell was much too weak to do even those simple things, veritable cake-walks for full mamono.

Mallory had nearly been hit by cars twice in her search. Finding her brother was the only thing on her mind. There could have been a nuclear bomb falling over her head and she wouldn't have cared if she hadn't yet found her brother.

The girl slid to a stop on top of an unfrequented overpass which bridged a large, grassy ditch. Sawao had shown it to her quite a few years back when she first visited Japan— you could see most of the remaining suburbs from it because of the rather steep slope which started around a hundred meters away from where she stood. It was high enough up to get a bird's eye view, but not high enough to confuse detail too badly. Maybe, she thought, she could catch a glimpse of someone moving in the streets amongst the small suburban homes.

There was no such luck. "Shit!" The girl took off up the road, and followed it through an unfamiliar part of the neighborhood Sawao lived in, and finally, after cutting through several alleyways and back roads, she made her way into the outskirts of the city, filled with small businesses, most of which had closed for the night, and family-owned restaurants.

After peering into the windows of several sweet shops and ice cream parlors,

Mallory grabbed the shirt of one of the few people out on the street, and pulled them down to eye-level. "Have you seen a little boy and a girl that's my a… tch… a few years older than me?" she said, glaring into the wide eyes of the man she had stopped.

"Ah… n-no," he said, attempting to straighten himself up but failing, unable to pull away from Mallory's grasp on his collar. "Who in th—!?" he began, but he'd already been thrown aside as the girl took off down the road, stumbling slightly over an uneven part of the sidewalk.

"Shit!"

* * *

I was honestly scared. I guess I had figured I was already screwed when I demanded the girl's name, and the small sense of doom had created a bit of reckless belligerency. I was beginning to feel a tiny tinge fatigue unlike any other I ever had. I'd used three spells, and I suppose that what my parents had told me about the loss of heart energy was true enough. I figured I still had a shot or two of _Zakeru_ left, though, so it wasn't like I was running on an empty tank.

I looked down at the metal floor lamp clutched in my hand, and noticed my knuckles were turning white from the tight grasp I had on it.

I noticed the girl who called herself Proteus running at me, and I swung the lamp again. The metal shaft collided with her shoulder, and she fell against the ground with a loud cry of pain. Judging from the still throbbing pain in my gut, she seemed to be very physically strong, but she sure couldn't take a hit as well as she could give one.

Through gritted teeth, she muttered a quick "Damn!" as she tried to get to her feet while gripping her arm in one hand and her pink book in the other. "What are you waiting for?"

Apparently she'd been addressing her partner, because Rue made another lunge at me. Teo attempted to tackle her as she rushed towards me, but missed. I swung the lamp again, but I jumped the gun. The metal pole was shaved by one of Rue's outstretched claws. A jolt ran through my body as I wrapped in around the book as a reflexive protective measure. It felt like everything inside me had been melted out, but seeing as I was alive, I was sure that wasn't the case. I fell on my knees, and then forward onto my face. I closed my eyes, knowing that soon those claws of lightning were going to be plunged into my back.

Nothing happened. I rolled over with a groan, and weakly raised myself to my knees using the arm of the couch as support.

Once again, Teo had intercepted Rue. He'd jumped in front of me and wrapped his arms around her torso.

"Please…! Rue…!" Teo cried out, tears streaming from his eyes. "Please wake up!"

* * *

It was almost too much for Teo to comprehend.

Rue was there in front of him, so close he could reach out touch her. But to Teo, it wasn't really Rue. Rue smiled. Rue laughed. Rue would never hurt anyone. This girl, this dull-eyed manikin, wasn't Rue!

And Sawao. …Sawao was fighting with him to save Rue. Sawao was his bookkeeper. But he hadn't been before today. Could Sawao not read the book before the two attacked them, or did he lie? Teo didn't understand why a good person like Sawao would lie. _Was_ Sawao a good person?

Teo had mentally blocked everything his bookkeeper said aside from the spells. He said words Teo would rather not hear all too often when he was hit. Teo really didn't blame him.

"Please, Rue!" he said, "Listen to me!" The claws of lightning grazed his back as his cousin struggled, rending his navy-blue shirt and the skin beneath it. Teo gritted his teeth and kept his grip on Rue's torso as his crying wet his marked cheeks. He knew that Rue, the Rue he knew, was in there, in there somewhere.

Rue's spell wore off, and Teo took this chance to speak. "Auntie… Your mom's all alone without you! She cries every day! She sent me to save you! Uncle got hurt bad trying to save you… He can't wake up and not even my mom's best healing spell works on him! Don't you want to see him?! Come home, Rue! _Please!_"

His plea fell on deaf ears. It begot three words that crushed Teo more than any harsh refusal or silence ever could. "W-who …a-are you…?"

Teo's eyes widened, still spilling forth tears. "R-rue…? You don't…" His defense weakened, but Rue had long stopped thrashing about.

"I-I don't re-mem-nember… remember… you… We we-were…? Were w-we …f-friends?"

"You don't remember…?" Teo asked in dread. Rue was his constant companion. His best friend. She didn't remember him?! He drooped over. "I'm…" Before Teo could finish his sentence, he let out a long wail. "Rue…."

"What are you doing?! Keep fighting!" 'Proteus' asked as she shoved Sawao backwards into a table, which splintered. Apparently the two had been in a one-sided physical fight. The vase on it shattered on impact as the table itself had, and few larger shards of glass and splinters of wood that had been caught in between the wall and Sawao jutted into his back. Luckily, his clothing had protected him from most of the smaller pieces, and the larger ones only made superficial wounds. This didn't stop him from crying out in pain. "_Zayoru!_"

Teo jumped backwards, avoiding the string manipulated by Rue. He dodged the little ball at the head of the attack and the thread of lightning until finally it wound its way back to Rue and faded away. He panted, terrified, as he sniffled.

"Rue, it's not like you to do this! Please stop it!" Teo said. Rue wouldn't turn her power against family. She wouldn't. The real Rue never would try to hurt her cousin. She'd never hurt anyone. The real Rue was the one that was buried deep below the surface.

The real Rue, Teo thought, knew him. Deep down there, Rue remembered Auntie, and Uncle, and him. The fake Rue, the one on the surface now, was the one speaking. The real Rue was still there. _The real Rue needed to be saved._

Sawao made an attempt to stiff-arm Proteus as she charged him, but she peeled away and jumped back. Her eyes widened as she noticed the book glowing in Sawao's hand. He opened it abruptly to read what was inside. Teo knew this meant a new spell, and apparently, from the stories his parents had told him, Sawao did, too.

Proteus raised her own book, also recognizing the sign. "Attack the human!" she called. "_Zayoru!_"

The ball of lightning shot at Sawao. Teo rushed in between the attack and his book-reader. Maybe he could neutralize the attack with the new spell…

"_RaSeshirudo!_" Sawao cried, and Teo felt himself black out.

* * *

The lights were off, and there were no evident signs that anyone had broken in. The maids had been keeping up with the dusting, and had stolen no silverware from the kitchen.

Sunlight poured in through the windows of the French mansion as the brown-eyed woman briskly made her way through the hallways, making sure everything was in place. Her rosy colored medical scrubs, which she had not changed out of from work earlier that day, stood out against the blue walls that had faded slightly with the sheer age of the home as she checked to make sure that not a drawer had been left open by a careless servant, or a vase chipped.

Koko didn't know why Sherry, her friend since childhood, had left the country suddenly. Koko had only received a call from her saying that she was going to America, and needed someone to watch over the Belmond manner while she was gone. Ever since Sherry's butler, Jii, had retired, she'd never had another paid servant which she could trust with such a task, and had always called on Koko if she and her family had ever gone on a vacation.

But from Sherry's voice over the phone, Koko could tell that she wasn't going on a vacation.

The woman sighed and sat down in a cushioned chair in her friend's living room. Koko crossed her arms to think. This wasn't the first time Sherry had kept something from her, despite their being best friends for many years.

Before Koko had left for college over fifteen years ago, a band of criminal arsonists had set her whole neighborhood on fire and kidnapped her. They'd kept her doped for her entire period of captivity, apparently, because Koko didn't remember any of it.

She was in the hospital when she came to, and Sherry was there. Koko knew Sherry had saved her, but not much more other than Sherry was keeping her in the dark about something. But Koko had college, paid for by a full-ride scholarship, to look forward to. She ended up studying medicine, and worked at a local hospital.

Sherry traveled a lot for a while after that with the most outlandish-looking man (well, he was actually very young, counting as more of a boy than a man) Koko had ever seen. She always told Koko she was going on sight-seeing trips with her companion, Brago, but Koko knew Sherry was lying. Koko, who really didn't think about it all that much due to copious amounts of homework and long hours in class, had come to the conclusion that they were romantic getaways, a theory reinforced by the fact that Sherry and Brago ended up as parents.

Koko knew Brago wasn't exactly human. He didn't look it. His very mein radiated something different and foreign. Besides, Sherry had always gone directly to Koko for her children's medical needs, so Koko knew better than anyone that their blood type wasn't that of any human being. It had to be from their father's genes.

Koko had constantly wondered for years how Sherry had fallen in with a person like that. Where would she have to go to meet a humanoid that… well… wasn't human? Koko knew Sherry would never tell her if she asked.

Koko shifted her weight, looking at the elaborate designs on the high ceiling. "Hmmm..." She had asked Sherry many questions over the years about what happened after she'd been kidnapped, but her friend had either been very vague or refused to answer as if she were protecting Koko.

Koko knew, she just knew, that Sherry's husband had to do with whatever or whoever caused her disappearance. And this sudden trip as people were disappearing randomly throughout the world… was that connected, too? It was a gut feeling, nothing more, but Koko couldn't shake it.

She stood up as her curiosity peaked, brushing the bangs of her chestnut-brown hair from her eyes, and walked over to the computer, which seemed rather out-of-place in the 18th-century home.

Koko turned it on, ignoring the accusing queasiness in her stomach. She decided she'd start with email. She felt like such a sneak, looking into her friend's computer files, especially after Sherry had trusted her with the passwords to sign on and that of her email.

Koko logged on and opened the internet up. She opened Sherry's inbox, and clicked on the most recent message, which had been sent a few days ago by someone called 'Kiyomaro Takamine'.

Koko closed her eyes. She couldn't believe what she was doing. It was wrong, it was _so_ wrong, and it was just a horrendous invasion of privacy, but Koko wanted to know. She wanted to really know what happened to her fifteen years ago.

* * *

I stared up at the back of a round shield which crackled with electricity. It spanned from just above the floor to near the ceiling. Teo's normally orange eyes were blank and his arms were outstretched as if he were supporting the shield.

I could hear a zapping noise, the type created by electric discharge, followed by a thud and then tiny scream from the British girl.

We stood behind the shield for a moment and it faded as Teo returned to consciousness. "Sawao…?" he breathed at me as I sank down on one of my knees in fatigue, "Was that…" he began, but he didn't finish his sentence once he noticed his cousin. "Rue!"

Proteus, who was the one that had screamed, hadn't been injured in any way. Rue, on the other hand, was lying on the floor. Her dull purple eyes were open and she was breathing, but other than that, she didn't move. Apparently _RaSeshirudo_ had the power to deflect attacks back at the opponent, the only logical explanation I could think of for Rue being hit by her own attack.

Proteus straightened herself up and walked towards us, her grey eyes narrowed. I stood up, too, ready to take what she was about to deal. She gave a heavy, sad sigh and walked slowly towards us, and to my great horror, she pulled from her back jean pocket what was definately a butterfly knife.

She flicked it open. I didn't think I had much heart energy left, seeing as I could barely stand up, but I had to read a spell…! "Teo, look at her!" I called. As soon as he had Proteus in the line of fire, I read, "_Zakeru!_"

She jumped to the side in a clumsy yet effective attempt at dodging, and fell beside a small chest of drawers. After a few heavy breaths, she reached her free hand up, using the chest to balance herself as she got to her feet again. She seemed to have accidently made a small cut in one of her arms with the knife as she had dodged, telling from the blood staining her white long-sleeved shirt. Her elbow gave, causing her to slam into the chest and knock down a picture frame placed on it. For a few moments, Proteus stayed there, staring at the photograph.

Out of heart energy, I sank down to my knees and fell backward into the wall, which of course caused the slivers of glass and wood embedded in my back to fester. I winced. "Sawao, are you okay?!" Teo asked, but I didn't answer, my eyes locked on Proteus.

As she once again got up, Proteus, in what I figured to be an absentminded motion, grabbed the picture in the same hand as the knife. Teo shrunk backwards, scared, as she advanced more surely.

She was two feet away from us. My heart beat wildly in my chest as I brought the book up onto my lap so I could hand it to her and forfeit when the demand came.

Instead, she raised the photo so I could see it.

I blinked. It was a picture of Naoko and me. Grandma took it, I think, on a warm weekend in April just before Naoko had vanished. We were smiling like idiots, half in and half out of the shade of a large tree in the park. Naoko's favorite green-rimmed star-shaped sunglasses had been pulled down low on her nose, virtually falling off, and I had propped my usual aviators up onto my forehead for the photograph. Naoko had jumped on my back, pulling herself up by holding on to my light jacket. She had managed to get her chin up over my shoulder and her arm flung upwards in the air before the lens could capture the image of anything else. It was the last picture we had taken of Naoko.

I stared at the picture for a short while before Proteus spoke. "…who… Who is this?" She moved her finger so it pointed to Naoko. "Is this girl Naoko Takamine?!"

* * *

Does that count as a cliffhanger?!

I really suck at fight scenes. DX I mean, more than usual. ...I had fun writing this chapter.

By the way, Mallory knew that someone (Aston) was lurking around the Takamine's house, but pretty much forgot about it once she realized her brother was missing. I tried to insinuate that, but I don't think I did a very good job.

…and no, going into people's email and reading it isn't something Koko usually does, to the best of my knowledge. I mean, Koko would not do that on a normal basis! She's just really curious about something that's been eating at her for fifteen years. Zophise would, though. He'd probably download hard-drive frying viruses to random computers for fun. Because he's Zophise.

I'd really appreciate some reveiws!


	11. Rubberband

March of the God

**March of the God**

**Chapter 11: Rubberband**

I really wish I would have updated more over the summer. TT-TT Sorry, guys.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Konjiki no Gash Bell or anything I may mention. However, I do own my OCs. 

Warning: I drop the f-bomb. Or rather, Sawao does. Still, it's just me typing.

In addition, this chapter, I think, goes a little beyond teen. It's nothing so gruesome as the whole story should be changed to M, just a little blood and something that looks like (or is) mental illness. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

If you think this seriously needs a ratings change, please tell me and I will seriously consider it. Thankyouverymuch.

* * *

I sat there, my back against the wall, gaping at the girl who called herself Proteus. Teo pulled at my arm in some weak, confused effort to get me on my feet, however, I had exhausted the heart energy that was necessary to stand. Not to mention the splinters of wood and shards of glass in my back were really beginning to become irritated and it hurt like hell itself. "Sawa… Sawao, a-are you okay?!" the boy muttered as he tugged on my limp appendage. I didn't reply.

"Answer me!" Proteus demanded, her eyes narrowing. "Is this girl Naoko Takamine?!"

I nodded to the girl with the knife. "Yeah, that's my sister. You know her?"

Teo, however, was far more enthusiastic about the prospect of saving a girl he'd never met. He made a tiny advance on Proteus. "Where is Naoko?!" Teo asked. "Sawao and Demi want her back… and… and… Rue! If… I-If I can't save Rue now… we'll fight you again and save her then! Where's the guy you're working for...?! Where's Babylon Angel at?!"

_Damned stupid kid!_ I mentally cursed. This was exactly why I'd been lying about being able to read Teo's book. I didn't want to get dragged into all of it, I didn't want to be hurt. …since I accepted the book, I'd been hurt and now it looked like I'd have to go on to do something bigger. Great.

We'd been utterly defeated, crushed by two girls, the older of whom I was sure was younger than me. The other one was about five years old and had pink hair she kept in two little ponytails— you do the math. I didn't want to fight, we didn't even deserve to. I knew I was a wimp, but my state was worse than I imagined.

Proteus gritted her teeth and I could swear I saw her hand clench on her pink book tightly as if she were involved in some great mental conflict for a while. Behind her, Rue sat up and slowly tottered to her feet.

This was bad… Her demon was on her feet. Proteus herself could stand, and she had a knife. All we had going for us is that Teo was standing up.

God, we were pathetic.

My streak of defiance in the face of doom surfaced again. "Spit it out or you'll be late for tea time," I demanded, attempting to summon strength into my voice. Not much, if any, of it came. Seeming masculine was definitely a lost cause by now.

Making a good show had always been my strong point. Always, I had been able to smile to the faces of people I hated, act cool, confident and street-smart in front of my peers when really I would like to just go home. Even that had failed me, I was at the end of it. And my so-called 'talent' got me trouble.

Just as the words had left my mouth, the picture of my sister clattered to the floor and my eyes widened as Proteus's knife inflicted a shallow but incredibly painful wound as the metal blade made a quick swipe across my chest. I let out an incomprehensible cry of muddled up swear words.

I gathered enough power to lift my hand to my chest and put a little pressure on the wounded area with my fingers, palm and even forearm as if it would close up and stop bleeding if I placed my hand there. I had no such luck, the open wound still bled and still hurt like hell.

Proteus gave another of her seemingly forced smirks. She said, "Taman Zlatan. It's an old town in Siberia that was set up by company of Croatian oil prospectors. It's mostly kept afloat as a stop for bush pilots— which you'll need to get there— and because of small tourist traffic to see the cave system in the north in mid-summer. Not so far down a road— if you want to call it a road— to the west is a petrified tree by a shallow gulch that runs for about a mile. Poke around down there, not too far from the tree, and you'll find and entry to a small cave. We'll be there."

She flicked her knife back into the handle, did an about-face and started walking towards the door, Rue in tow. "Let's see if you can 'save' the other seventy-nine humans and the other seventy-eight demons, shall we?"

As she reached the door, Proteus turned her head and shoulders slightly, looked at me and said, "For future reference, I skip tea."

* * *

Well, usually I skipped tea. Occasionally, when lunch hadn't been to my liking and I knew dinner wouldn't be, either, I'd have a frappuccino and a granola bar or something of the type. (Nothing that would easily come up if I shoved my finger down my throat.) Of course I didn't tell him that.

I rushed out onto the street, looking about. I quite honestly expected the police force to come screeching around the corner to take me in the next moment.

Of course they didn't. As I walked down the street, literally lugging my poor partner by her wrist, I repeatedly mentally scolded myself. "_Stupid Aston. Stupid! Aston Martin, you're as dumb as your name._"

I'd deliberately defeated the purpose of the whole mission. Deliberately ruined it. I'd ruined it, in a moment of emotion, confusion and anger, by railing off what I'd read on a sign post outside the town's oldest store. (I was also considering railing off any mildly offensive name I could find for the Japanese, but I chose to use the knife.) And then I went on to give details about where our base was— and the whole reason I'd even broken into the house was to make sure the Prince _kept away_. Now he'd have a shot at walking right in, to a waiting army of demons manipulated to be merciless, manipulated to be able to tear off his head without even a little moral qualm.

It wasn't the flimsy attempt at harassing me on my English heritage that got me going. That just snapped me out of my thought abruptly enough to squeeze a quick decision out. As for cutting him… I honestly didn't know what I was thinking in doing that: …trying to inspire fear? Or maybe I just wasn't thinking.

And it wasn't like I could go back and threaten to kill him if he dared come near. He was probably calling the police already. They could come at any second, I kept thinking.

Maybe, I thought, they wouldn't be able to find the cave. But on that godforsaken wasteland, a tree was a rare sight. Even the black spruce, which was common tundra arbor, wouldn't grow. They'd definitely find the opening. Quite honestly, my only hope was that the Japanese boy's parents wouldn't allow him to go out of the country on short notice for such far-fetched reasons.

Yes, I was sure that would be the case. No parent would allow their child to suddenly up and go to Siberia to go fight demons.

The pink-haired demon stumbled beside me, her short, tired legs unable to keep up with my brisk pace. Her knee hit the concrete, and to my surprise, she let out a little wimper.

"Do… do you need to rest?" I asked her, realizing that my chest was heaving and I was completely covered in a thin layer of sweat. I was breathing heavy— the fight had taken its toll on me, too. "Does your knee hurt?" I honestly didn't expect an answer.

"Ever… everything hu-hur-rts…" she stammered out. "B-but I… I…I'm ha…ppy."

"H-happy? Why? You're injured!" I exclaimed.

"I… I… I a-am, ye-es…" she said calmly, "Bu-but… I'm ha-ha-happy because… becau…se I… _I'm Rue_. I kn-know I'm Rue… n-now I…do."

During the fight, I had automatically assigned her the name the Prince had called her. Never had I felt a sense of revelation in knowing her name, it just wasn't the time. Despite this, I felt a smile coming over my face. "Yes. You're Rue." I would have ruffled her hair, but I was afraid I would hit a sore spot on her head.

She imitated the gesture in a tiny, stunted way, as if she wanted to smile broader, but simply couldn't. Her purple eyes, however, remained blank for the most part.

"Do you need some help?" I asked her. "I could carry you."

Rue looked up at me, her eyes still blank. I took this as a 'yes', and I knelt down, virtually grabbing her under her legs so I could lift her into a piggy-back position. With her small size and the pink book, which now seemed to be large and ungainly in my hand, it was a little difficult, but I managed by leaning the book against my leg while getting her into position. Once she was hoisted onto my back, I picked it up again before I stood. Rue was weightless to me, but moving my own body was beginning to wear on me.

The little girl gripped my sleeve and sunk a little lower onto my back as I began to walk, stumbling between signposts and telephone poles. Anything that could provide support was needed.

Although I had been going at a rather quick pace earlier, my mind hadn't been on my exhaustion— I hadn't even considered it. Now that I noticed the burning feeling in my throat and the weakness in my knees, it was impossible to speed up. Spell-casting was tiring, I decided. I'd need to be far more careful about when I used spells in the future.

I continued on for what felt like a long while until I came to the bus-stop Babylon Angel and I had parted at. The entrance into the city park wasn't far, then… He'd promised to meet me on a bench in the park, due to the fact that no one went there at nighttime.

Once I got into the little park, I slid the knife out of my pocket and opened it up as a precautionary measure. No one from within the surrounding blue shadow approached me, nor did I see any people along the sides of the pathway or under the trees, although I could see some motion from under a decorative footbridge maybe 100 meters away. I was sure, though, that my figure and the glint off my knife were easy to see, as I walked in the lit pathway.

"Aston!" Babylon Angel exclaimed upon seeing me, "What happened to your arm!?" He didn't ask about the huddled mass on my back that was Rue.

"Oh… I cut myself on accident," I said, looking at the drying red stain caused by the blood from the superficial wound I'd inflicted on myself. I put the blade back into the handle and stashed it in my pocket.

"That'll happen…" he muttered. "So, was the mission a success, corporal?" Babylon Angel asked brightly.

I nodded. "We won."

"I knew you would, Aston! Did you make it crystal clear to them that they should stay away?" he asked.

I then lied. "Yes."

"Good job!" he said, jumping towards me and giving me a squeeze. This aggravated the bruise I'd earned from being hit with the floor lamp, and I nearly dropped Rue as I recoiled. …I could only imagine what hitting the ground would feel like in her condition. I would have dropped her if she didn't cling to my blue vest, which she more than likely had gotten blood on. The blood that had diffused through the sleeve of my shirt sponged off on the white polo shirt he wore, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Oh! Sorry," Babylon Angel said.

"You're not really a man, are you?" I asked him, smiling.

"I so totally am!" he said, pouting. "It's just more fun to be like this!"

"You have a point," I said as I set Rue down on the park bench by the bag of things Babylon Angel had bought in Korea and two unconscious figures. "Babylon Angel?" I said his name.

"Huh?" He'd been staring off in the general direction of one of the elaborate, European-styled lamps that served to lighten the path.

"Who are they?" I asked, pointing to the two. One was a girl with fair skin and hair that must have been dyed, and the other was a small boy that, for a split second, I feared was a corpse by his deathly white skin tone. However, when I dared examine him closer, his little shoulders heaved ever so slightly from his breath, and his facial muscles relaxed, allowing his tiny mouth to open.

"Half-mamono. The other half is human. I picked them up because… well… they were interesting," he said, still smiling brightly. "Actually, it was kind of compulsive. I really must be a kleptomaniac, huh?" He laughed.

"I'd say so. You used the chloroform, didn't you?" I asked Babylon Angel, collapsing onto the last free space on the bench. This too caused my tiny wounds to send out shocks of pain, and I winced. "Ugh! …I'm okay," I said, leaning back onto the back of the bench. I had things to ask Babylon Angel, but I was tired. Honestly, I wanted to just lapse into sleep for the time being, nothing more.

He nodded. "Yup. Worked like a charm! …we really should get back…" Babylon Angel said. "Do you need a rest first…?" he asked.

"I can manage until we get back," I replied, getting to my feet, which was considerably harder than I figured it would be. "After all, I'm not the one flying at God-knows-how-many miles per hour. Hanging on isn't as difficult as you'd think it might be." Anything to get to a place where I could sleep.

"I'm glad I perfected the spell while I was in the Makai, then," he said, smiling. Babylon Angel walked out into the pathway that ran through the park, his bare feet making no noise against the red brick of the walk. He took a look at me and smiled a very odd smile before muttering, "_Shi Biron."_

Long, beautiful white wings seemed to form from the very light, starting at his shoulder blades and reaching upwards before tilting down at their joints where they rest, folded, on his back. He threw open his arms, stretching, and the white wings did the same— they straightened upwards, the tips going up almost into the branches of the taller trees.

A few feathers fell, glowing as they lazily drifted towards the ground. Before they reached their destination on the trodden walkway, the pure white feathers of light burst noiselessly and dissipated into nothingness.

Someone, presumably the figure under the bridge, yelled about Judgment Day.

I'd seen this spell a few times before, however it never ceased to amaze me. "Could you pick those two up and bring them over here?" Babylon Angel asked, breaking my trance. "I'll carry the older one… You hold onto your partner and the little one, okay?"

I did so easily, thanks to Babylon Angel's serum. I was a little sore, though, which was odd because I didn't overexert myself physically. Maybe my low level of heart energy was taxing my muscles? I set down the girl. She looked about my age, probably a little older, though. He picked her up around the waist, paying no heed to the way she slumped over his arm, as if she were a rag that had been thrown there.

I walked a short distance down the path and knelt down so Rue could grip me tightly around the waist. I held the other child in the same way Babylon Angel held the girl with the white-and-black hair.

"Ready," Babylon Angel said, spreading his wings, cautious of any nearby trees. "Set!" He adjusted his hold on the girl and moved his feet just a little. "Go!" He ran towards me at high speed and took off just meters before he reached me. I threw my free arm up.

Still low, the hand of his free arm clamped high on my own, and I did the same. I shut my eyes— I always hated this part. For a moment I felt as if I'd just been hit by a bullet train from behind, and to follow it up, was being sucked through a wormhole headfirst. However, the unpleasant sensation stopped, and I opened my eyes to see the earth far under me rolling away. We were airborne.

I was glad… so, very glad…. to leave Mochinoki City behind.

* * *

"Sawao? Sawao?! Are you okay?!" Teo repeated, shaking the boy's arm. "Sawao!"

"Yeah. I'm fine," he said. But he didn't get up. Instead, Sawao stuck his hand into his pocket, searching around for something in there. He pulled out a little white-and-green box and a purple object. Sawao opened the box and pulled out a long, thin white cylinder and placed it between his lips. After raising the purple thing to eye level, he tossed it aside. "Damn… always out when I really need it… Teo," he said, "if you go into the foyer, there's a chest of drawers… the one with the picture on it. In the bottom drawer on the left, there'll be a bunch of candles. In there, with all the candles, there will be one of those," he said, motioning at the discarded purple item, "only it's bright green."

Teo obeyed. After digging through a whole drawer of miscellaneous decorative candles, he came up with a transparent lime green cartridge with a clear liquid in it. He rushed back to the living room and handed it to Sawao, who flicked his thumb across the top of it, causing a tiny flame to spurt out. It was the liveliest thing in the room— Teo stood transfixed, and the older boy's motions were slow. The way the motion of Sawao's arm pulled ever so slightly on the skin of his injured back seemed to be paining him.

Teo blinked as Sawao touched the fire to the tip of the object between his lips before removing his finger from the green thing, extinguishing the little flame. He shoved it into his pants pocket and inhaled.

He shifted his position on the wall a little and brought his arm up, this time to remove the object and exhale foul-smelling smoke that made Teo cough. The red book still rested by Sawao's side.

"We lost, didn't we, Sawao?" Teo asked, sitting a few feet away from him on the carpet.

"Yeah," Sawao answered flatly. "We got our asses handed to us."

Teo, who really didn't think they lost _that _badly, was about to protest the use of the word 'ass', but he chose not to. It didn't matter what Sawao said. "Do you think we could get to Siberia?" Teo asked.

"Probably," Sawao answered in the same flat tone. "Mom's agent loves me. She'd get me first-class round-trip tickets to heaven, hell and Hawai'i on a private jet-liner if I asked."

"Do you think we could win?" Teo asked, posing his third question.

"No," Sawao's answer came, "No, we couldn't." He put the white object back to his lips and took another puff before blowing the smoke back out.

"That's what I thought," Teo said. "I have another question."

"Shoot," Sawao said.

"What are you doing right now?"

"I'm smoking a cigarette," he said. Still his voice was flat, none of the complacent, light humor and subtle wit that usually flavored his manner of speaking. "It's an amazingly effective way to kill yourself over the span of thirty years or so."

"…then why do you do it?" Teo asked him.

"Because it calms me down and helps me get back into the mindset of a sane person," said Sawao. "That and I'm addicted to nicotine."

"Oh… I see. Sawao, I have just one more question for you," Teo said. "It's the big one."

"Go on," Sawao said, still puffing on his cigarette in between phrases.

"Why did you lie about being my book-reader?"

Sawao didn't answer, and Teo didn't push the matter.

An hour passed in silence. Most of Teo's wounds, although they hadn't been too severe, had begun to heal already, and he had considered asking Sawao if he needed help with the little shards in his back, but he held almost a fear of breaking the silence.

Sawao had gone through several cigarettes, pulling them from the little box and lighting them almost methodically. He extinguished his butts on the bottom of his shoe, and then simply dropped them right there. Teo hated the smell, but he didn't protest.

He didn't care. The real Rue, he thought, was lost for sure inside that familiar shell. And he couldn't save her. He couldn't save her at all. He didn't have the right to care, he couldn't even save his own cousin.

But his throat felt dry, and soon he was yearning for water. He knew he could reach the sink if he used a kitchen chair, and that he could drink, forget princely etiquette, from the tap without a glass. Teo wobbled to his feet and walked off down the main hallway.

He walked through the foyer to the adjourning kitchen. No sooner was he in the doorway to the room of his destination than the main door to the house flew open, revealing the last person in the world Teo wanted to see. In the hour he and Sawao spent in silence, he'd come to the conclusion that he was going to have to face Mallory _eventually_, but he hoped that time would somehow stop before he ever did.

She wasn't in a good mood, either. "I smell blood," Mallory said, her nostrils flared and her eyes wide. She looked down at Teo only with her eyes as she closed the door with the hand that wasn't clenched onto what looked like a piece of scratched up, thick Plexiglas that had cracked and torn apart by something that had been forced through the entire sheet. Something like Mallory's scraped fist.

Teo took a step backwards into the kitchen, not needing to ask to know that her search had come up fruitless. The footsteps softened as they proceeded down the hallway, and Teo, who had forgotten about the water at this point, felt as if there was a wide enough berth between him and Mallory for him to trail along after her to see what she was doing.

He made a slow advance from the kitchen, but quickened his pace when he noticed that Mallory turned into the living room, where Sawao was.

Once Teo got to the door, he peeked in. Mallory turned and shot him a glance as if to signal she knew he was there, but paid the prince no more heed than that.

"You look like hell," Mallory said to the slumped figure that was Sawao.

"You think I don't know that?" came his response. He extinguished his cigarette and lit another one.

"What happened in here?" Mallory asked, looking around at the state of the room before finally eyeing the red book at his side.

"Some bitch with a spellbook came and busted it up," Sawao said. "Said why she did it, but I forgot after getting the crap kicked out of me."

"Why am I not surprised you're getting the living shit beaten out of you by women?" Mallory asked him before extending the piece of Plexiglas. "Look. This used to be part of the wall of a bus stop before I broke it off. I'm damn lucky it shattered right. Familiar?"

Sawao nodded. Mallory noted Teo again by tossing him the shard. He stared at it for a moment before realizing what had been etched into the piece— that mark that looked like a skewed heart. "Babylon Angel…" he mouthed noiselessly.

"I asked around, and the two were last seen by the owner of a convenience store a block or two up from there. No one saw them anywhere past that point. In addition, the place reeked of chloroform," Mallory said in a quick, terse tone, "which is an anesthetic. I'm thinking I know what happened."

That person, Teo thought, that 'Babylon Angel' had captured Li Xiao and Demi, too.

But Sawao didn't answer.

"Don't you care?!" Mallory asked.

Sawao sat in silence, looking down at his lap for a moment more before looking up and saying, "No. I don't."

* * *

Mal's… no, friendly terms between the two of us had suddenly become inapplicable… _Mallory_'s eyes opened wider than they already were, if that was possible. Her blue irises, which seemed just a little smaller than usual, were surrounded by the whites— no part of them was hidden by her eyelids.

She was scary, but there was no way I was getting dragged into any more of this. There was no way I was going up against that Proteus chick or the evil overlord she worked for. No way in hell.

This wasn't the bravado I displayed in desperation. There was no way I could make a show covered in blood, hair still wet from otherwise dried perspiration an entire hour after all had been said and done. This was an honest concern that I had to voice. I knew Mallory, and there was no gently persuading her— it had to be done outright. I didn't know what the consequences might be, but, call me a spoiled, there was no way I was going through another beating like that.

"What?" she asked.

"I don't care. And I'm not in a position to!" I said, leaning forward from my place on the wall. I attempted to wobble to my feet. Much of my heart-energy had returned, but I was injured. I took a look back at the wall when I leaned on it for support. The part I had been resting on was covered in blood. My blood.

"What are you talking about? You apparently can read the book. It means you can fight!" she said.

"I can fight!? Bullshit. I can get my ass kicked, and that's about it! I tried fighting, and I have a back full of pieces of wood and glass! If you haven't noticed, I'm bleeding!" I exclaimed.

"_You know something_," Mallory stated. "I was going to suggest phoning that symbol in to Kiyomaro and asking for plane tickets to America. Whoever-it-was you fought told you something, didn't they?"

"How do you come up with tha—" I started, but Teo interrupted me.

"T-They…" the prince blurted from the doorway, "They told us where we could find them! Exactly! So please call our parents and leave Sawao alone. He didn't do anything," Teo pleaded, "Mallory, _please_…" Teo was honestly terrified of Mallory, I could tell. He loathed her, he feared her. I could go so far as to say he saw her as some sort of subhuman beast that existed to act as his adversary. But that was inferring a little much.

Mallory's facial expression contorted into something of a pleased smirk. "Then we don't need our parents at all. _We_ can save them," Mallory said to no one in particular. "We can take on responsibility." She meant that she could take on responsibility for losing her brother.

"Did you just hear me?" I asked, extinguishing my cigarette on my shoe. "No! I'm not doing it! No!" I sounded like a kid throwing a hissy-fit, and I was well aware of it. But it came out anyways, undeterred. "We are powerless. That guy has an army down there… we're a few kids! Our parents will handle it! I am_ not_ rushing into a goddamned cave so you don't develop mental issues about letting someone kidnap your brother! But that's not all. I'm thinking this is about your over-inflated ego that you've been fostering for God knows how long!"

She stood transfixed, hanging on every word. Her eyes were still wide, but her eyebrows raised in a surprised, dazed manner, and her mouth hung open slightly. I was getting off-topic, but I had to go on, it was spilling out even faster than my previous temper-tantrum.

"Mallory, listen, I've known you for what, seven years? I know that you think you can handle everything! You think you've got all the answers you'll ever need up in your head, because you're so damn smart! You think you're so strong. Physically, maybe. You couldn't take an army, though! There's no way in hell. And guess what, Mallory? Mentally, you're just like the rest of us!" I was treading uncharted waters here, I felt. "You act tough… you are tough! But that doesn't mean you have to be able to shut it all out and take on the world at a moment's notice! I've seen you cry because of what you couldn't do! Why can't you just do that again?!"

"Sawao… I was a child! And that's… t-that's completely irrelevant!" Mallory finally snapped, her voice much louder than before. She sounded almost helpless, and for a moment she closed her eyes. When they opened, they were no wider than they were at a relaxed state.

"Y'still are a kid, Mallory! We all are here! And yeah, it is relevant. You can only ask someone for even a little help if you admit you've already given up in the field. You love fighting, you'll _never_ drop that. Our parents could take this whole situation blindfolded and tied to a stake, and they'd still commit total overkill. You just can't conceive the idea of crying to mommy and daddy, because nine out of ten, I bet you've never done it, and that's pretty damn sad. You've had this same 'I'm above everyone and everything' mentality for your entire life! And other people? God forbid you need to depend on them, especially after you think you've finally got all the answers! You know what? I'm not stopping you on your little self-glorifying mission! You can go to Siberia all on your fucking lonesome, Mallory, because you sure as hell don't need us!"

That did it. After a three-part moment of stunned silence, my feet left the ground, and my back and the back of my head were suddenly slammed against the wall, all in one instant. The ends of my jaw felt like they were about to shatter. I screamed, and I could swear I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I was pressed to the wall, held only by the upper part of my neck and my jawbone. Although the current position I was in had me staring up at the ceiling, I could easily guess what had happened. Nothing else could have.

The pressure of Mallory's hand on my jaw and neck was another indicator that she was holding me up against the wall, off the ground, with just one hand. The pressure of her darkly colored claws broke my skin in places, but I could barely feel it. Two or three tears streamed down my face, but I didn't start to cry. I didn't cry than what the current pain I was in had squeezed out of me.

She flicked her wrist backwards, and my chin lowered so that I had a clear view of her.

Mallory had such an imposing presence that you never noticed what a tiny girl she was. She barely reached the height of five feet. It was surely amongst the oddest things to think in such a position, but for a moment, all I could think of how small Mallory was…

She adjusted her grip on me before she started speaking. "Listen here, you selfish bastard, since I had to sit through that damn seminar, here's a piece for you, _monsieur_. And don't you think of opening your mouth, I could crush your jaw in an instant!"

I wasn't afraid. I'd been terrified of Proteus, but I wasn't afraid of Mallory. Teo, who I could see from my elevated position, stood frozen, aside from his terrified shivers and ragged breathing, at the door. The boy was silently sobbing. He'd stood up to Proteus way better than I had.

Mallory stared up at me for a moment before tears formed in her eyes and an odd smile spread over her face. "Yes… I _could_ just crush your jaw. I could crush every bone in your body without any effort… I could even kill you!" She seemed ecstatic at the thought, as if it were a new concept, a thought no human had ever conceived. Suddenly, Mallory seemed to be a whole new person.

She smiled for a few moments before lowering me. With one of her hands, she then pushed me to the wall. I winced. "I could kill you, you know, so easily."

The tone of her voice was relaxed, unaffected by the points I had just seemed to have driven home. With all this talk of killing, I was beginning to become frightened. Mallory yelled and screamed a lot, I'd heard it over the phone and through walls, but this, this I'd never seen out of her. Or out of anyone, for that matter. I had been fearless a moment before, but now, now I was about to loose my mind.

Mallory grinned, her free hand traveling to under my jaw, but closing it gently on my throat. She smeared some of the blood she had drawn earlier down to just above my Adam's apple. "You know, Sawao, I could rip out your throat." For a moment, I thought she would honestly do it when I felt her nails pierce my skin. She withdrew them and laughed in a girlish manner I'd never heard from her before doodling something on my skin— it felt like a smiley face— in the blood she'd just drawn. She was toying with me, I realized.

The revelation didn't make this any less terrifying.

She stripped off my jacket. "Sawao, you're sweating," she said, still smiling. Under it, my button-up shirt was open all the way, revealing my clean white undershirt. Well, it had been clean until Proteus had soiled it with blood by cutting my chest. I was afraid to look down, but I felt what was probably a thumbnail enter the skin just above my right clavicle and trail down to the left side of my chest. I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes. The tiny scrape was inches away from the wound Proteus inflicted. "You know, I could shatter your ribs in an instant and even tear out your heart. But don't worry, Sawao," she said, running her index finger through the blood seeping from my new wound, "I won't. I'm not that mean." Her smile broadened before she brought her finger, covered in my own blood, to my mouth and forced it past my lips and my teeth. She wiped it off on my tongue the best she could. Some of it remained on my lips.

It was disgusting. I'd tasted my own blood before when I'd accidentally bitten the inside of my mouth or when I was attempting to stop a paper cut from bleeding all over, but this was in some way different.

For a moment, I feared Mallory would pull a fishhook, which with her nail and strength would rip through my cheek, but luckily she didn't. She withdrew the finger from my mouth without further incident. That, in no way, caused my fear to ebb.

"Isn't it such a great power to have?" Mallory asked, still holding me to the wall. "The power over life and death? It's really thrilling, if you think about it. Right now, I have the decision to choose whether Sawao— you— continues to exist. Most people have the power most of the time, but it's incredibly accessible for me. Do you know why that is?"

I dared to shake my head 'no'. She was terrifying. Awful. And at that moment, it came to me how ugly Mallory really could look. She was saying such ugly things from a mouth turned upwards into a cheerfully malicious smile, her long canine teeth ever accentuated. It was the first time I'd ever associated Mallory with the word 'demonic'.

Mallory, in the first place, was not pretty, as much as I'd like to think so. Now… now, wearing this hellish expression and saying these terrifying words, she seemed to be something that walked out of a horror movie, something hideous.

"Because I'm better than you humans," she said. All the while, her fingers remained along the paper-thin cut she'd just inflicted. "It's only natural that I should exercise such a power, especially here in this world, filled with people below me. I'm better than you by mere birth!

"Isn't it thrilling to be in such a position? Just imagine it, Sawao, walking among a whole crowd of people and knowing that you hold the ability to stop any one of their— or, in my case, all of their, I know I can do it— separate existences.

"And look," Mallory continued, "you're afraid of me, Sawao. You're about to start shaking, and let's not forget that cold sweat you're covered in. Right now, you'd say anything for me. You'd do anything for me to get out of this position, wouldn't you, Sawao?" The repetition of my name put me on the spot even more. "Braver people would just take longer to scare. Most sane people are afraid of death. So are many insane ones. …I have the power to control others, too! Do you have any corrections to my theories, Sawao?"

I finally managed to choke up words. But they were the dumbest words ever, although really, it was a question I'd love to pose.

"Where is this coming from?!" I spit out, reprimanding her again. "What are you saying?! Listen to yourself, will you?"

Mallory stopped speaking and her eyes opened wide again, as if she'd just snapped out of a sort of trance. After a moment of stunned silence she stepped backwards, reeling in horror.

"Oh my God," she mouthed. "I… I don't know what that was..." Tears, which she did not note by sniffling or attempting to wipe away began to stream down her face as she stared at the blood on her hands. "I don't know. I really don't know… E-excuse me… I need… I need to wash my hands… Disgusting…"

She walked at a brisk pace past Teo, paying him no heed, and up the stairs. I heard the sound of things falling and breaking, and some screeching. Mallory, thank God, was back to her normal self, to some extent. I had no idea what just happened, and I had no desire to know.

* * *

After smoking another cigarette or two, I finally decided that I needed to get the wood and glass shards out of my back, but I figured that I should wash up and get all the blood, all of which had turned brown and was beginning to reek, off of me first.

Teo, who at first had come up to me and apologized desperately (and needlessly) for letting the whole incident with Mallory go on right in front of him, had fallen asleep, curled up on the seat of a leather chair in the foyer. He'd cried himself to sleep. I found him as I walked through going to the kitchen to get some ibuprofen to numb the pain of my injuries, although it said on the bottle that it wasn't suited for such uses. I took two.

I then headed to the upstairs bathroom to take my shower.

However, no sooner than I walked in did I see Mallory sitting atop the counter by the sink, sucking on her fingers. Sucking on them, apparently, to get my blood out from under her nails.

"I _really_ don't know what that was…" Mallory said in at fast, nervous pace upon noting my entrance. Her cheeks were flushed red as if she had been crying, and a digit or two of her fingers was still in her mouth. They seemed clean, but for a moment, I wondered if we were indirectly sharing spit, however the thought was soon pushed from my mind by Mallory continuing.

"Honestly. One moment, I was going to tell you off, but your speech, which was true, by the way, was an impossible act to follow… and then, then… I started thinking about how I'd never save my brother, how he'd never come back… and… I just began to think how much easier it'd be to just hurt you and tell you not to talk, and the next thing I knew, murder sounded like a logical option! It made it feel like it'd solve everything and… and… I'm sorry, okay?"

It didn't sound like Mallory talking. It wasn't like her at all, and it felt wrong. She was shaky, she was nervous… just like the person who had spoken of killing me, this person was not Mallory. Mallory was calm, cool and collected. That was the Mallory I knew.

"It's okay, Mal…" I said, returning to the use of a nickname. "Really, it's okay."

"I just threatened to kill you! But it won't happen again! Really, it won't!"

"Mal, quit it. I know it won't happen again… You popped under stress and said a whole bunch of things you didn't mean, right?" At least, that's what I hoped happened. I paused, and sat down by her on the counter. She'd sounded positively crazy. Now she just sounded awkward and unnatural.

"You… you know, I think I like it better when you're acting like a stuck-up above-it-all jerk. Don't be one, just act like it," I said. "Sorta. I mean, know when to ask for help." I smiled at her. "If it isn't obvious, my spine is made of Jell-O. Teo doesn't seem to have much of a backbone, either. Someone's gotta stand up tall around here."

"You're just feeding that over-inflated ego of mine," she said, almost returning the smile.

"Well, your ego does need to go on a diet, but we can't starve it, can we?" I asked.

She laughed. "You're not as dumb as you act, you know. But your spine _is _made of gelatin. You're flattering me right now on the exact same things you just lost your temper over. At least the gelatin of your spine seems to be able to consolidate if it needs to."

"Oh, thanks," I said, smiling. "Dunno how to take that one. Hey, Mal? Do you know how to get this shit out of my back? Proteus… the girl who broke in… knocked me into one of those little tables, and apparently it was made with something a step above plywood. Now my back's full of splinters and glass."

Suddenly, she became all-business. "Yeah, I've gotten a few bad splinters training with my father. I know how to handle it… Turn around and take off your shirt," she commanded as she reached down and opened a drawer. Without looking, she managed to fish a washcloth out. "This thing is going to be ruined, if you don't mind." She reached to the sink and washed her hands as she wetted the washcloth. However, she swabbed the wet cloth on my neck, presumably to erase the little doodle she'd drawn in blood.

I followed her order and gave a slight jump as the lukewarm water on the washcloth went over my back, clearing away the blood.

"You're lucky," she said. "None of these are too big, and all of them are pretty much superficial. They'll still hurt, but they'll be no real problem. We're going to want to dress all of this up with bandages after disinfecting it. Especially these splinters…" She then set to work removing the splinters and shards of glass with her claws.

Although the ibuprofen had kicked in— and henceforth the feeling of having fingers stuck into open wounds was considerably less painful that it ought to have been, thank God— I had to clench my teeth down on a decorative towel I'd taken off a rack so I could bear the hurt caused by her digging around in my wounds. In the long mirror, I watched her work with a quiet, dignified concentration and know-how. Occasionally, she'd mutter a next-to-silent 'dammit' when she slipped up, although I barely noticed her interjections, I was too busy with my own, but other than that she remained professionally diligent.

This was the real Mallory. Not the terrified Mallory that I saw when I told her off, the psychotic one who seemed to be enamored with her ability to push someone over the boundary of life and death, nor the apologetic, worried one.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about that…" Mallory said, breaking my chain of thought. "Especially not my parents."

I was surprised she didn't say 'your father'.

"I like to think I've developed a pretty good relationship with them, and the last thing I want is for them to worry about me," she continued as she removed the last of the splinters. "You might want to take a shower and get the rest of the dried blood off. The cuts on your chest will probably start bleeding again, but not substantially, and you might not want to stand directly under the water. I'll aggravate your wounds. And don't use soap on them, we can disinfect them when you dry off."

"Got it," I said. "But Mal?"

"Hm?" she looked at me.

"This'll all be our little secret, okay?" I asked, putting a smile on. "I mean, Teo knows, but he's not the type to play the tattle-tale. No one else'll ever know."

"Thank you," she said, sliding off the counter. "Leave some hot water." With that last sentiment, she left the room.

And even if she hadn't asked me, I would have kept it a secret. I wished that all of Mallory's ugly sides, all of her weak, awkward sides could be little secrets kept between just the two of us.

* * *

Mallory has a few screws loose, yeah. …the character Dr. Kisugi from the Boogiepop series may or may not have inspired that. But no one's as effing creepy as Kisugi.

I feel like I shafted the cannons in this chapter. DX I mean, they're not even in it. But you see, they're either asleep, in a really passive and lazy mood or getting plane tickets online. .

But that's that.

Review!


	12. The Perfect World

**March of the God**

**Chapter 12: The Perfect World**

Disclaimer: I do not own Konjiki no Gash Bell, or anything I may reference. My OCs, though, are mine. Despite what it may seem, I've put a LOT of effort into developing them, so out of decency and respect, no theft please. I don't own any quotes from Boogiepop, either. Boogiepop quotes seem to explain the world, somehow. 0-o

…eventhoughhalfmynamesarereferencestootherthings.

* * *

"Well, Nazo Nazo Hakase said I could," Gash insisted, continuing to pour the potting soil out of the pot of a houseplant. The king walked about the room, which had been cleared of furniture, in a circular motion, surrounding the odd symbols he had already formed in the same way. "Kiyomaro, it's not so easy to get back to the Makai, you know. Last time I went back to get those records, I ended up borrowing chalk to draw this on the driveway! And I don't even know where that little girl lives, Kiyomaro!"

"What are you talking about now? You can zap right in and out of my home whenever you want to," Kiyomaro said, crossing his arms. The man had just gotten dressed and come downstairs to breakfast when he found his old partner emptying the contents of several flowerpots onto the wood-paneled floor of a rather nice room.

"You always are so cranky in the mornings!" Gash exclaimed. "It gets on my nerves a little…"

"Hey!" snapped Kiyomaro. "_You_'ve got no right to claim that _I _get on _your_ nerves!"

Gash laughed. "I'm joking, Kiyomaro, I'm joking!" he said. "But this is the easiest way to do it impromptu. I set up a terminal for easy access at your house and a few other places. This isn't one of them, though…"

"What are you going back to the Makai for?" asked Wonlei, who had been passing through the room. He was holding two cups of coffee— presumably one for himself and one for Li Yen.

"More help!" Gash said. "…I only asked the people that were staying in Ningenkai to come here. Tio of course came with, and Kid and Kanchomé were nearby at the time. I never see anyone anymore, no one is in touch," he said, sounding a little upset. "I mean… there are some people I haven't seen in ten years!" He paused. "I would've asked Earth to come, but he's out dealing with that hostage situation in the east."

"I did hear about that from Kid," Wonlei said. "…a discontented agricultural group tried to seize land from a small town that was using a surprisingly great amount of previously unclaimed land for development, right?"

Gash nodded. "And the farmers and field workers believed an annulled agreement was still in effect and entitled them to it. Things got ugly really quick, what with the farmer's rights protests it started all over the Makai. And let's not forget the original group of demons that started it— they've holed themselves up and have the prior residents under lockdown.

"Of course any official orders to leave the town were useless, and using military power to suppress it would be useless, it'd only escalate the protests, which don't even seem to be related to the original issue anymore. Besides, the farmers aren't completely malicious, we've sent loads of mediators out and they're all really shaky— what we're worried about is someone will loose their nerve and fire off a spell. Then the residents will probably rise up and a full-scale battle will be on."

Gash paused. His mien as he described the situation could only remind Kiyomaro of that of when he was in battle, although to a degree less severe. "Right before I left for Ningenkai, I authorized Earth and a small band of troops, I think he chose to take a defense regiment that was skilled in shielding spells, to go out and make sure this doesn't spread and to attempt to apprehend the original organizers of the uprising without causing a big uproar. They'll be arrested, but the complaints of the group overall will be taken seriously. Earth's always been really good with the political things— better than me, but I'm learning quick!" Gash smiled. "But we'll need him here, along with almost all of our allies. We need a whole researching work-force!" He pumped his fist in an almost comical manner. "And I'm hoping to bring back more resources, check up on Teo and see how Zeon is doing in the hospital."

"…I'm actually impressed," Kiyomaro said, although he could have sworn he heard some grammatical error somewhere in there. The man examined what Gash had drawn in the soil. The diagram in the center of the room was much like the one on the cover of the red book, and the writing (which was oddly defined for something written with dirt) resembled the characters in it as well. "He'll be helpful for research, yes, but when it comes to battling, if necessary, he might have to fight without spells. I haven't spoken to Elly— or almost anyone— in a few years, though, and I don't have any way to contact her. Then again, there are plenty of ways to find just about anyone…"

"Nazo Nazo Hakase can call Vino back from school," Gash suggested. "I'm ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent sure that he'll be able to read White's book!"

Wonlei thought for a moment, and asked, "What about Umagon? Surely you've been in touch with Sunbeam…"

Gash interrupted. "Oh! Umagon finally, actually, and legally changed his name to 'Umagon' because no one would stop calling him it! …I, uhm, thought you should know that… Sorry," he said when he noticed that Kiyomaro was giving him something resembling the evil eye.

Kiyomaro shook his head. "We'd have to scour the Sahara to find him or Elle, so Umagon and Momon would have to go without spells if they even fought at all… Not to mention Riya. Alishie lives in a pretty remote area without any sort of technology, too… he'd be hard to get a hold of. Everyone else… well… I have no addresses or phone numbers or anything. Then again, the demons this guy abducted can't be too strong, especially compared to us. Gash, am I right in my assumption?"

Gash nodded. "None of them were that experienced in battle at all. Even if it is an army, I think it might turn out to be more of another hostage situation in the long run…"

"Kiyomaro," Wonlei asked, "out of curiosity, how many people have you been in touch with? You, and of course Megumi, seeing as the two of you are married, have been the only people we've really spoken to."

"You guys, because you're always stopping in, and Sherry, basically," said Kiyomaro. "Of course I get phone calls from Folgore then and now, and I endure his concerts if he's ever in Japan, but that's about it."

"Not to sound rude to her," Wonlei said, "but why Sherry? We know her well now, but back during the battle, it wasn't like she and Brago were what we could call friends."

"She gave me her address and requested that I write if I had time when we parted after our last battle, so we kept in touch," Kiyomaro explained. "And you have plenty of time to write to women in France when you're grounded to your room for a long period of time because you screwed up and got a girl pregnant. Oh, was mom furious… I think I could have called Child Services for what she did to me with that spoon…" He winced in the pain of the memories.

Wonlei shuddered. "I… I see," he said before noting the coffee cups he had been holding in his hands. "Ah, I forgot all about these! They've really cooled down! Li Yen likes her coffee hot! I'm sorry, but I have to go!" He rushed out the door on the other side of the room.

Gash blinked and titled his head after him. "Doesn't everyone like their coffee hot?" the King asked Kiyomaro, disregarding those who like it iced.

"Fifteen years, and she still has him whipped," Kiyomaro commented after letting out a long sigh. After watching Gash mess with the potting soil for a while more, he asked, "How, exactly, does that thing work?"

"Well," Gash said, "To get back and forth to Ningenkai, we use a device not entirely unlike— but not too similar too, either— the one that was used to get Faudo here to open and close the barrier. When I draw these symbols, it hooks up to the device through the barrier, activating it, and forces the barrier open. It's a lot easier to get from Ningenkai to the Makai and vice versa if you set up those terminals I was talking about. Our device is always waiting for an activation order from them. If using the terminals is like turning a key in the ignition, this is like hotwiring the car."

"Did you learn about that from a movie or something?" Kiyomaro asked, although by his tone he was clearly surprised that Gash had so much knowledge on any such subject. It was to be expected of a fully grown king, of course, but this was Gash Kiyomaro was thinking about: the irritating blonde boy that had liked to disguise himself as a gym bag to follow Kiyomaro about in his younger days, among other ridiculous things.

Gash nodded. "Yep! And I'm just about done with drawing this, too!"

The king finished and took his place in the center of the diagram, careful not to track any of the dirt away from where he had left it. He closed his amber eyes and began to mutter in an odd language at a slow, even chant. The 'ritual' feeling Kiyomaro was getting from the scene did not match with the room, which the morning light was pouring into from a window that faced almost but not quite to the east. It moreover had light spring green floral-print wallpaper in a shade which complimented the cherry wood and was moreover modeled tastefully after the classic designs of the nineteenth century. Kiyomaro still couldn't believe the eccentric Nazo Nazo Hakase lived in such a place.

The dirt slowly began to glow in a red color. That glow strengthened until Kiyomaro had to squint to prevent the shine from hurting his eyes.

Once the light faded, Kiyomaro opened his eyes, expecting Gash to have vanished. Instead, the blonde man stood in the middle of the room, looking incredibly baffled. "It… should have worked," Gash said. "Let me try again!"

He closed his eyes again and repeated the odd phrases, but this time, the ring of dirt didn't even glow. "Don't tell me…" Gash muttered.

"Don't tell you what?" Kiyomaro asked, although he had already deduced the problem.

For a moment, Gash was silent before he almost cried out what Kiyomaro had expected him to say. "The… the connection to the Makai! The one through the barrier… it's been cut!"

* * *

"…and that will do it!" the demon said, largely talking to himself. "No more access to and from the Makai!" He brushed off the red cardigan and grey skirt he was wearing, which he had recently stolen.

Moments before, Babylon Angel had been standing in the center of an absolutely massive circle of runes and symbols cut into the tundra floor. However, after issuing a magical incantation, a blue glow had consumed the field and when it vanished, it had taken the symbols he had drawn with it. It was a sign that his spell had worked.

Babylon Angel had been watching the traffic between the Makai and Ningenkai. As he expected, first the king and a small party had left the Makai. Shortly afterwards, the King's son followed. However, after that, an old acquaintance of Babylon Angel's, one who he did not like in the least bit, had slipped through for a reason unknown to Babylon Angel. Personal affairs, he had figured.

It then dawned on Babylon Angel that the King could bring a larger party of allies, all of whom were definitely stronger than his little makeshift army. He didn't want anyone more coming and going to and from the Makai, it would cause more trouble for him personally in the long run.

In fact, the only way to get back to the Makai for any of the demons, at this point, would be to burn their book, which would force open the barrier under any circumstance. There was no way out of the Makai. Babylon Angel could also release the spell on his own, but that wasn't exactly in his plans.

After stretching a little, Babylon Angel bounced down into the opening of the cavern.

For a larger man, the opening and the next few passages would have been a difficult fit— especially with the lack of light. Babylon Angel, however, had the form of a young girl and knew his way around quite well. In no time he was in an open chamber that was dark and unlit. This room and the next few were secrets— only he and Aston knew where the exit to the cave was.

He wandered through the cave for a while before slipping onto a flat platform. Sliding on his belly, Babylon Angel finally came to the edge of the rock and swung off into a long hallway. This area could be accessed by any of the demons in his army, but was unfrequented and poorly lit as if it were a dead end. And unless one knew the exact gap in the stone to hoist oneself up onto, it appeared to be exactly that— a dead end.

Babylon Angel had never meant for the exit to be so hard to find. The humans and demons underground were there of their own free will or were being manipulated by Babylon Angel— they would not leave.

After walking in the direction that let out into the cave, he came to an open chamber lit by the type of light one might expect to see at an excavation site. It had many tunnels leading to and from it, and footsteps could be heard echoing down many of them.

"Aaaaand… I have those two half-mamono to talk to!" Babylon Angel exclaimed to himself as he stood in the middle of the 'room'. He often said what he was thinking aloud at random intervals— Aston had told him she thought that it was only a sign of insanity when you answered with a different persona. She hadn't been quite sure, though. Babylon Angel didn't care if he was crazy.

"Half mamono?" came a male voice from behind him.

Babylon Angel whipped around almost playfully to see one of his demons. He was a tall young man, probably eighteen or nineteen years of age, with deep gold eyes and his coarse blue hair tied off on one side. Someone, in Babylon Angel's opinion, had done a bad job of cutting it.

Babylon Angel had remembered from his 'interview' of the demon, whose name he did not care to remember, that he had been quite the suck-up.

His human partner was a rather attractive blonde girl in a blazer-style school uniform. Babylon Angel also remembered she had made quite a fuss when he had 'interviewed' her— she had even resorted to speaking in clichés such as 'You won't get away with this!'

Babylon Angel knew that this was the team of the crème book (human manipulated) without having to look at the tome at the girl's side. They were one of the teams that had gained a second spell, he remembered.

"Yep! Picked them up off the street when we were in Japan," Babylon Angel said, smiling cheerfully.

"Really? That's amazing!" said the demon. "How was your trip?"

"Oh, well, I took the team of the pale pink book with me, and we stopped in Korea for a bite to eat. And_ then_ we went to Japan to make sure the King's son wouldn't attack us here," Babylon Angel explained, trying not to laugh at the demon.

"I would easily take care of the Prince if he ever attacked, sir!" said the demon, smiling.

"Uhm, that's what I'm worried about," said Babylon Angel, stifling a sigh. He didn't like suck-ups— they never had anything interesting to say. Part of the reason he liked Aston was that she always had something to ramble on about. "I wouldn't want the kid dying, which he probably would do. Think of the poor Queen, left all alone in the world, whatever-your-name-might-be! …Emily Dickinson, was it?"

He looked a little disappointed that Babylon Angel did not remember his name. Truthfully, Babylon Angel didn't make it a habit to remember names at all, but the mamono seemed to have taken it personally. "I'm Malachi, sir," he said.

"Okay then, Malachi, cut the 'sir' stuff," Babylon Angel said. "It's a little weird. _Aston _calls me by name." Now, Babylon Angel was toying around with Malachi. He'd definitely take it to offense if Babylon Angel knew other's names, just not his. He ransacked the recesses of his memory for the girl's name. He knew for a fact he had pulled an 'I'm psychic!' joke on her after reading her school ID. He had it: Vieve, Vieve Decatour. "I'm sure Vieve there would call me by my name too if she could speak, you know! Isn't that right, Vieve? Nod yes."

The blonde girl nodded blankly, complying with Babylon Angel's order. "See?" Babylon Angel asked, smiling innocently at the flabbergasted look on Malachi's face. He turned to almost glare at Vieve. Babylon Angel hoped that his little fun would not cause the poor girl trouble later. He also remembered Malachi to have a lethal temper that he was good at channeling in the direction of where he wanted it to go. Vieve couldn't even fight back if she was the target.

"So, how was your day, Malachi?" Babylon Angel asked him, clearing his throat. He'd decided to be nice to Malachi for Vieve's sake, although the half-demons should have long been conscious, and he was itching to interview them.

"Uneventful," he admitted. "I hope to see battle sometime soon. We learned a second spell, you know."

"I'm well aware of that. You're in the top four of my teams, you know!" Babylon Angel said, smiling. Compliment, in his opinion, was due where it was due. "Keep at it!"

He nodded, smiling. "We… we've been training. I've been careful not to shatter the floors. I know how thin they are…"

"Good! It wouldn't be all that wonderful to have an open hole in my floors, wouldn't it?" Babylon Angel said. "It'd be really hard to get around if people were trying to go places."

Babylon Angel had deliberately chosen the cave system as his hideout. He had read several geological magazines while trying to locate his would-be book reader in Ningenkai, and had found the perfect area.

Beneath the plethora of chambers he and his army were now residing in, there was a huge open chamber that went on and on down into the depths of the earth. If one were to fall, it would take them quite a while to reach the bottom. It was a distance that would severely injure or kill even the strongest demon. Survival for a human was out of the question.

Enemies could not use stronger spells in the tunnels— the spells would most definitely shatter the rock on which they stood. (Babylon Angel had programmed the fact into the heads of the manipulated, and he'd made a note to inform those who were free.) Past the first few chambers, it was rare that two rooms were above or below each other. The cave system was a reverse spiral downwards, surrounding a large gap in the crust of the earth. Oddly, the area wasn't very susceptible to earthquakes at all— the region's caves were objects of fascination to geologists.

However, the caves in the north were far more easily accessible, so not many dared venture into the area Babylon Angel made up his residence.

The area was so perfect Babylon Angel at times found it to be unreal.

While Babylon Angel could boast of being a Shin-class demon (though he was a weaker one in comparison to others, say the king), he knew his the army he had built was indeed pitiable. If he could limit enemies to physical attacks and weak spells that were far, far, far beneath even the Dioga class, his army would serve its purpose of making small bruises, fraying nerves and allowing him to gauge the personal strengths and weaknesses of the teams.

He was having a camera system installed by controlled workers for that task.

Babylon Angel had another advantage in his choice of battlefield. Although he was indeed limiting his own use of spells in order to do the same to his enemies, Babylon Angel could fly.

He didn't want to shatter the ground beneath the king's feet to end it quickly and easily, no. Babylon Angel fancied a duel, a proper fight to the death. Babylon Angel figured that his romanticism would be his death.

Malachi nodded in response. "Right, right."

Babylon Angel looked at an imaginary watch on his wrist. He desperately wanted to speak with the half-mamono he brought in. "Well, it's been nice talking to you, Malachi. See you around, okay?" Babylon Angel rushed off down the tunnel like an eager child, waving. He didn't pay any attention to whether Malachi responded or not.

* * *

"So, what's your name?" Babylon Angel asked, leaning across the card table with a broad smile on his face.

"Li Xiao," the older girl said, putting on a little smile.

"You told me your name right off the bat!" Babylon Angel exclaimed happily. "You don't know how many people I had to manipulate without even knowing their name. Apparently they don't like giving it to an evil creep like me."

"The only time being honest hurts is when you're dealing with psychologists or members of crime syndicates," said Li Xiao. "Someone asks, and you tell."

"Okay, then," Babylon Angel said, blinking. "How do you know about psychologists and crime syndicates?"

"Feeding psychologists crap is common sense. They can send you from that couch straight to the psych ward!" she exclaimed, letting out a laugh. "And as for crime syndicates, my grandpa's the leader of a big triad in Hong Kong. Apparently about five rival gangs have been trying to get him to surrender territory, money and stashes of illegally smuggled weapons by getting a hold of my mother and me so they can use us as bargaining chips or something. They've came really close, to getting us, too. A lot of lying comes in to getting out of tight fixes… Although Grandpa doesn't want to admit it, he's glad mom married dad and his super-powers now!

"But it's still risky. That's why he's always giving us so much money for 'vacations' and such. He wants us on the move, but we try to spend as much time as possible with my great-grandparents out in the country. Why they don't try to threaten my grandpa himself…? I guess you could say that my grandpa is harder to find than Waldo is when you're wearing those goggles that make you see like you're drunk!" Li Xiao finished.

"You're pretty open," Babylon Angel said. "I admire that."

"I never have had a reason to shut anything off," Li Xiao said. "From people in general, at least."

"And that should be the way it is," commented Babylon Angel. "Your maternal side is the human one, I take it?"

Li Xiao nodded, leaning back in the folding chair. "Yee-up. Mom's human, Dad's a mamono. I'm pretty much a genetic cocktail. I have a sixth toe on one of my feet, you know."

"Really?!" Babylon Angel asked, his behavior suddenly childish. "Can I see? Can I see?! _Please?_"

Li Xiao slouched in her seat and removed one of her old-fashioned Chinese slippers before raising her right foot onto the card table. "Behold my six little piggies," she said. The silver-and-black haired half demon leaned over and grabbed her big toe. "This little piggy went to market!" She rested her finger on top of her second toe. "This little piggy stayed home!" She moved to the next toe, and continued. "This little piggy ate roast beef, this little piggy had none."

Li Xiao tapped the top of her fourth toe. "Poor piggy, at least the cows aren't mad at it... And this little piggy," she said, selecting the fifth one, "went wee-wee-wee all the way home!"

"And the sixth?" Babylon Angel asked, grinning broadly.

"Funny you should ask, actually!" Li Xiao laughed. "The last little piggy made it big on Broadway in a musical production of George Orwell's _Animal Farm_. Then it lost all its money in ugly divorces, betting on horse racing and having a huge misconception about the future prices of OJ Simpson sports memorabilia, so it applied for welfare. Someone kept stealing the checks out of the mail, though, and the bank foreclosed on its house. It was busted for armed robbery at a BP Amoco and was sent to jail, but was released on parole early for good conduct. So now it's considering moving back in with its mother."

"How long did that take you to make up?" Babylon Angel asked, amused.

"Oh, I've been formulating it forever! Originally it was just 'And the last little piggy played the stock market.' Then, every time I went barefoot, I elaborated and edited. Hence the tragedy my sixth little piggy has suffered."

"Poor piggy," said Babylon Angel said.

"My body's pretty weird," Li Xiao said. "Totally abnormal. I mean, I don't know what the alleles in my hair were thinking when they decided some patches of head would grow white hair and the others black…"

"Abnormal, huh? …so, is your hair white on black, or black on white?" Babylon Angel asked her, leaning on the card table. "Or do you know?"

"Black on white, my parents and I spent forever trying to figure it out!" Li Xiao said. "Another thing is that I haven't started menstruating yet." She was unabashed as she said this.

Babylon Angel blinked, more interested in the workings of the body than disgusted as most would be. "Really? How old are you?"

"Fourteen," she said. "I mean, I know it's not unheard of to start your period later than fourteen, but still… My body looks like it's gone through at least some of puberty, but it hasn't. I'm thinking I might be infertile in the long run or something, you know. I asked a friend about it, and she said something like… 'Many hybrids tend to be unable to produce children because of the lack of necessary genetic material. Take, for example, the mule, the cross between a horse and a donkey.'" For her quotation, Li Xiao dropped her voice about an octave and used an overly uptight, terse and seemingly condescending tone as if she were imitating the original speaker in a teasing manner. "Well, she said exactly that. Then she went on about mules."

"Does said friend know you're part demon?"

Li Xiao nodded. "She is, too. I dunno if she shares my possible infertility, because she's got only five toes on each foot and her hair's all one color. Maybe the genes mixed differently, y'know?"

Babylon Angel nodded his head and spoke in a more even, informative tone different from his usual cheeriness, though it was seemingly good-natured. "While mamono are all essentially the same sort of demons, they come in many different forms with different body structures and such. In the same way, even demons with similar physical form— say humanoid, which for my mental health I am going to assume both of your mamono parents are— have different workings of the body. All demons, though, can interbreed. No one really knows why. Because when you have magic," he said, the tone of his voice turning to distaste, "who needs to study biology? …Li Xiao, can you use any spells?"

Li Xiao nodded. "A whole four! I don't use them a lot, but I've had a little practice with those thugs my grandpa's rivals send out."

"Good, good." Babylon Angel was silent for a moment, before saying, "Let's cut to the chase!" in an overly cheery tone. "Will you assist me in my evil plot to kill the King? I think I told you about it when I picked you up! Half-mamono are interesting enough and all, but you'd be a great addition to my army! Otherwise, you'll be, in layman's terms, 'brainwashed' if you choose to decline my offer."

Li Xiao stared at him for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I will. I'll cooperate."

"Good. 'Cause it'd be a shame to override your personality, you know. You can go," he said. "I might drop by sometime and ask you to show me your spells so I know what's on my side. Later!"

With that, the girl got up from her seat and walked slowly across the room, eyes focused on the exit.

* * *

Once Li Xiao was sure her footsteps could no longer be heard down the corridor, she ran. Away from the person she knew murdered Naoko, away from the person who would murder King Gash, away from the person who she knew would brainwash or even kill her if she tried to stand up to him.

She was cheery and polite during her dialogue with him— no good would be done by angering the demon. However, she had been terrified, so terrified, the entire time.

The girl ran as fast as she could, hoping, praying that there was an exit, a light, just beyond her field of vision, which was blurred by the newly-forming tears of fear and anxiety.

But she had no such luck, no matter how many corridors she ran down.

Soon Li Xiao found herself lost, and at a dead end, no less. She turned around to start back, but before she could take her first step, she crumpled to the ground and began to sob.

* * *

I sat at the kitchen table, eating a breakfast of the bag of chocolate chips I'd found in the pantry. Plus a supplement of ibuprofen, this was of course a perfectly balanced breakfast that my middle-school health teacher would be very proud of. I'd already had two cups of coffee and smoked a few cigarettes.

I still felt like total crap, and I was trying hard not to dwell on my best friend's psycho-maniacal outburst the previous night, or that her brother and another friend had vanished thanks to the same creep who kidnapped my sister. It was a lot to ignore, and I was doing a pretty good job of it. The memories of getting beaten up by a series of women, however, kept popping up.

"Sawao… you're okay, right? Mallory didn't hurt you that bad, did she?" Teo asked me, clumsily pulling a chair up. He had to sit on his knees so he could rest his arms on the surface of the table.

"Nah, it wasn't that bad," I said.

"But she threatened to kill you!" Teo exclaimed, standing up on the chair. "That's bad, Sawao, really bad!"

"S'okay, really," I said between the chips I popped into my mouth. "Chocolate?" I slid the bag towards him on the table.

Teo gingerly took a piece and popped it in his mouth. "It tastes the same as the candy in the Makai…" he muttered. As I placed another piece in my mouth, the portable phone began to ring in its jack. I walked over and removed the phone from it without bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Takamine," I said into the receiver as I put the phone to my ear.

"Sawao?" It was my father.

"Dad? Something wrong?" I asked. "Or did you get him?"

"Him? If you mean the kidnapper, no," my dad said. "I'm just calling to check on you."

"Well, I threw a party and we all got so roaring drunk we lost our dignity and forgot what decade it was, so we destroyed half the neighborhood with the most destructive conga line ever formed," I answered. "And the drug dealing has been a bit slow since you left. We're low on cocaine, though, so we'll have to contact the guy in Venezuela who traffics the stuff."

"Hilarious, Sawao. Hilarious. …Tell him to fill the handlebars of the bikes in the next shipment headed this way with the stuff and we'll buy them all. …You've been having no problems with the credit cards, right?"

"No problem at all," I said.

"And you haven't broken anything?" he asked me.

Nothing but the entirety of the living room, I almost answered. "Dad, do you think I'm five or something? That was ten years ago, remember?" Truth be told, it was nine, not even close to ten. I'd only turned fourteen a few months ago.

"Nine, Sawao," Dad said as if he were reading my mind.

"Be technical about that of all things, will you?" I asked.

"Hey! …you accuse me of correcting you on a point, yet for fourteen years, I've put up with the biggest smartass of a kid I've ever met?!" he asked.

"So I'm a smartass? That's gotta be genetic," I replied.

Dad and I were more of friends than anything else. Sure, he tried to be fatherly and got pissed off at me and yelled when I did something dumb, but we were, in father-son terms, very detached from each other. Naoko, on the other hand, was Daddy's little girl. She'd been planned, after all.

He didn't always treat me like a son, and I didn't always treat him like a father. When I was mad at him or when we were among those who lived under a rock and didn't know we were father and son, I called him Kiyomaro. And it was rare he'd ever given me one of those 'life lessons' fathers so often impart on their sons. The reason for the state of our relationship was obvious to the both of us: He was too young and didn't really want to be a father, especially of a kid my age. Who would?

…I'm sure, though, he'd kill me if he found out I smoked.

But as I said, he did try to be a father. "Watch your mouth," he warned. "Anything happen at all?"

"Not a thing," I said. I didn't know why I was lying. I guess it was just out of habit: something happens, I act totally blasé about it. Being able to claim 'It's nothing', you know? "Sorta boring, really. Oh, Mal says 'hi'," I added, knowing it was something she would do. "Well, 'hello', because this is Mallory L. Belmond speaking." Mallory's middle name was Lafayette. "How's the research going?"

Dad exhaled. "Not well. We'll never get him at this rate, but it's our only chance. And things have only gotten worse. Wait a minute. … No, Gash. We're not doing that with the jumper cables, you moron! … … How do I know it won't work? I just do! … … …w-wha-what!? _No!_ … … Wait, I'll fix it! … …Ugh, Sawao?"

"Yeah?"

"I… have to go," Dad said in an exasperated tone. "See you."

"Oh, well, see you, then," I said.

"Sawao? …don't do anything stupid," he warned before saying "Goodbye" and hanging up.

I stood there for a moment staring at the receiver, the phone still off the hook. Why didn't I tell him about what happened last night? And he'd asked more than one question I could have brought the issue up on! God, was I an idiot, or what?! I slammed the phone back into the receiver and turned around, staring at the floor.

"So you didn't tell him about what happened?" a voice that could belong only to Mallory asked. She leaned in the doorway, clad in black as usual. I didn't know when she had gotten there, but apparently Teo had noticed her arrival, because he was staring at her. Instead of eyeing her with his usual dislike, though, he seemed to be trembling, just barely, in fear. I didn't blame him. Mallory, last night, had been nothing short of terrifying.

"I, well…" I stammered. No excuse came into mind.

"Yes…? …Or no?" Mal demanded, straightening herself up and walking towards me. "It's an easy question. Answer it."

"N-no," I admitted, "I didn't. You heard."

"Why?" she asked. "You made such a huge fuss last night about wanting to tell them. Are you going to call Kiyomaro back?"

"I dunno," I said. "Maybe wait a wh—"

"Are you or are you not?" she interrupted, getting right in front of me and looking up at me, almost standing on her toes. It felt, though, as if she were staring down at me. "Another yes or no. Single syllable words aren't hard to pronounce. You needn't overcomplicate things." All of this was flat and matter-of-fact. "Now tell me," she added, force in her voice, "yes? …Or no?"

I took a step backwards, feeling for a wall or something to put my back to. Nothing. I stumbled slightly, and for a moment I feared I would fall over onto my back and irritate the wounds that had been inflicted by the shards of glass and wood.

"Very graceful," Mal commented. "Tell me, now," she demanded. It felt like she was trying to squeeze it all out of me.

"Mallory, stop it!" Teo suddenly demanded as he slid from his chair. "Sawa-Sawao just let it slip his mind! Stop… Stop pushing him!"

"You have no part in this," Mallory said, turning her head slightly to view him. Although she had a venomous edge to her voice, the overall tone was bemused. "It's between Sawao and me."

"What's Sawao's problem is mine!" Teo insisted. "He's my book-reader, and it's my job to protect him!"

Protected by a six-year old. Great. Somehow, Teo always managed to say things that made matters worse or were just plain embarrassing.

A toothy grin spread over Mallory's face as she turned to face Teo. She moved her legs together and crossed her arms at her chest, resembling an iron post jutting from the ground. The only movement I could see from behind her was her shoulders heaving in a tiny laugh. "Protect him? That's funny," she said. "Protect him from what? Let me guess. Hmm, 'bad' people like me?"

Teo advanced a step. "I-I'll protect him from you if… if I need to!"

"So sweet, little prince. You didn't do such a wonderful job of 'protecting' him from that team last night, did you?" she asked him. "Or from me."

"Rue… Rue and Proteus were strong!" Teo said. "But next time I'll know to fight harder! And it was a mistake not to do anything when you hurt him! I didn't know you were going t—"

"Excuses, excuses… I recall you cowering in the doorway," Mallory said. I couldn't see her face, but I was sure she was smiling. This shut Teo up.

"Mal, lay off the kid," I tried to interject, but Mallory turned her head to me and gave me a rather sweet smile, considering it was her.

"Wait a moment, will you?" she asked. "I want to make sure the little prince gets something through his thick little skull."

"What are yo—" I started, but I stopped when I realized she wasn't paying attention to me.

"You think you'd actually be an obstacle if you decided you'd 'stand up to me'?" Mallory asked Teo, tilting her head. "That you could actually stop me from doing anything?"

Teo nodded, his hands forming into fists.

"That's kind of funny, really," Mallory said, raising her hand to shoulder height almost lazily. Her fingers hung limp from her outstretched hand as Teo stared at her, transfixed.

Before I could open my mouth to protest, her fingers shot open to an extended position and a purple glow radiated from her hand. The very air around him distorted, and Teo slammed into the ground as if the floor had been moved from under his feet. His eyes traveled to Mallory, open wide in horror and shock. It was clear he had no idea what was happening to him.

"Do you know what's happening to you?" Mallory asked him.

He didn't answer, but his eyes were locked to her.

"One of the very forces that governs the very universe, gravity, has been turned against you," she explained, as if she were a teacher giving a lecture. "At this magnitude it would take a good while, but it'll crush you if you let it. Are you going to?"

Teo, who was hooked onto her every word, kept his eyes on her the entire time. His cheek was pressed to the ground, which was beginning to show signs of wear from the increase of gravity on the spot, and when she was finished speaking, he clenched his eyes tightly before tears began to form in them and fall quickly to the floor. He wiggled a little, which I was sure was his shoulders attempting to heave and his diaphragm trying to move his body as it convulsed when he let out tiny wails. The gravity would not allow his body to move in its natural ways.

"And you think you can stand up to me?! You're already crying!" Mallory interjected, almost laughing. Teo had stood strong when fought Proteus and Rue, but now he was sobbing.

"Mal, stop!" I insisted. "You're hurting the kid!" This was the first time I'd ever seen her use magic.

"Wait a minute," she said to me before turning back to Teo. She narrowed her eyes slightly, and the floor began to crack as she increased the amount of pressure on him. "You could probably get up right now if you wanted to," she told him, "Even humans can if they try. But the truth is, you don't want to get to your feet. You want to stay there on the floor so you can't get hit with anything."

Teo opened his eyes, one of the few parts of him that could move easily, and looked up at Mallory almost helplessly, as if what she said was true.

"But there are people that will keep hitting you when they've got you on the ground," she said, "and there are people that will wait until you're on the ground to hit you."

"Please," he squeaked, managing to move his jaw, "stop it, Mallory. Please…"

The glow in her hand faded and she moved it to her side. "I hope you know that was a little one," she said to Teo. "…you're lucky that I'm going to be on your side."

She turned to the door and began to walk out, leaving Teo on the floor. Without looking at me, she commanded, "Sawao. Come on. We need to talk alone."

"What is it?" I asked Mallory, still a little shaken by the incident in the kitchen.

"How do you feel about hearing that, hmm?" she asked, closing the door and sitting me down on the bed.

"Feel about hearing what?" I answered with another question. I hoped that what I assumed she was getting at wasn't it.

She answered with the words I feared she would. "Hearing that a kid that isn't even up to your thigh is going to 'protect' you," she replied. "Whether he's human or demon, that's pretty pathetic, isn't it?"

I tried to change the subject. "What the hell were you thinking down there?" I asked. "He's just a kid!"

"I started learning to fight around his age," Mallory said. "He needs to toughen up. And that was nice compared to some of the things my father put me through."

"He's not you," I replied, "and your dad… well, he's a direct descendant of the monster under the bed that eats little kiddies." Her father (I was pretty sure his name was Brago...) had just happened to haunt my worst nightmares since I had first seen him.

"That would mean I would be, too," Mal replied, narrowing her eyes. "But isn't your state pitiable?" she asked suddenly, "Doesn't your dependence on others ever get to you?"

I bit my lip. I couldn't think of anything to say. I couldn't say that it didn't, and I didn't want to admit that it did.

"Does that little part of your mind that could be loosely classified as masculine ever generate any sort of feeling of anger at a situation in which you're useless?" she asked. "You're always complaining on the phone and on the internet. You're always hiding so you can calm yourself down by blackening your lungs.

I closed my eyes. Was… was her opinion of me really this low? Did she really see me that way? I'd sort of figured there were things she'd looked down on me about, but it hurt me more than I'd expect to hear them voiced.

And it hurt that she thought this about me.

"Don't you ever _do_ anything? There has to be some portion of you that wants to keep struggling, that doesn't want to throw in the towel. Why don't I ever see it?" she continued, sitting down next to me.

And it did bother me, if just a little. I hated that I felt that I didn't deserve to take a stand because of my condition.

"Sawao," Mallory said grabbing my hand, "I'm asking for you to stand up and help me," she said. "Will you come to Siberia with me?" With just that little touch, I felt every drop of strength leave my body.

* * *

He thought for a while, staring at the hand he held in her grasp.

She thought for a moment about what to say next. "I _need_ it. We can save Li Xiao, Naoko and Demi. And the Prince's cousin." Mallory really could care less about Li Xiao, Naoko, Demi or Rue. Well, she was upset that someone had kidnapped her brother. Maybe. And she didn't feel that she'd need Sawao (or Teo, for that matter) much aside from for travel reservations. She didn't give a second thought about the demons or the humans taken.

What she really wanted was to stand and fight. Mallory was, at heart, a warrior. Ready to fight, ready to win. She wanted an enemy, and this provided the perfect situation.

Sawao nodded. "I'll come," he said. "….Mom's agent… she'll get me tickets without saying a word to my parents. It probably won't be the most direct route, but it'll get us there soon…"

"…thank you," Mallory said, squeezing his hand lightly before slowly releasing it. Basically, this was to make him feel good and appreciated. She'd let him feel that way as long as she felt like being nice after he'd ensured her travel route.

As long as she needed him to do what she wanted. Mallory fancied herself a conqueror king, and a conqueror king needed an army that would obey him. Even if it were an army of one boy. It felt good to know you have control over a person, Mallory thought. Sawao was an easy target for this.

The previous night had shattered her conception that he was entirely hers, something she had taken for granted. And as a result, Mallory had snapped. If someone like Sawao wouldn't obey her, who would?

But now, she felt, he was back in her grasp, or at least she would trust he was. For now she needed him.

"…why is everything so screwed up?" Sawao asked. "And I mean everything. I don't mean to sound like one of those pot-smoking peace-and-love hippies, but there's always some battle to be fought, always some war. There's always some damn problem! Why?"

"You're just saying that because you don't want to face your own 'damn problem'," Mallory said. "Everything happens for a reason, I think, but a big misconception about that statement is that people think it has to be a good, justifying one. Cause and effect, you know. And here's the cause of there always being 'some damn problem': People will never get along."

"I guess. … but it's still screwed up," he replied.

"It's better that way," Mallory said. "Art, writing and music all tend to stem from some sort of trouble."

Sawao sighed. "…not in my opinion."

"That's because you're lazy," she said. "But let's pretend you have a genuine concern for people involved and such. …You like rock music, right?" Mallory asked him, tilting her head and bringing her hand from her mouth.

"Of course, Mal," he said. "It's the only thing I actually listen to. You know that."

"Where would rock be without the Vietnam War?" Mallory asked. "That was one of the biggest screw-ups in history, but because of it, rock music that protested it, among other subjects, became popular in America and other places. Since then it's spread and grown."

"I… I guess," Sawao said.

"And books. If there were no problems, if everything were always fair and just," she said, "what would we write about? What would we draw? What would we invent? What would keep us thinking? What would keep us creating and innovating if there was no problem to solve?" Mallory said.

A smile crept over Sawao's face. "Nothing to dream of if you've already got it," he said. "Nothing to dream of at all."

* * *

"Aston!" Babylon Angel called, waving to the girl down the corridor. "I've been looking for you!"

"You have?" she asked, blinking. "Why? Is there a problem?"

"Nope, I've just been looking for you," he said. "That and I want to show you something."

"Something?" the grey-eyed girl asked, crossing her arms.

"It's a secret," he said, raising his fingers to his lips and winking. "Come on," he said, "Let's go outside. Is your partner with you?" Babylon Angel bent to the side to look down the tunnel to see if he could spot the tiny figure.

"Rue? Oh, no, she needed to sleep, so she's in one of the carpeted rooms," Aston said. "I think only the little ones need sleep…"

Babylon Angel didn't want to talk about Aston's partner, so he immediately grabbed her by the wrist. "Come on, let's go!"

* * *

"_There are so few people that can really do what they want to do in life._"

—Shinpei Kuroda in _Boogiepop Phantom_ Episode 2: Light in Darkness

"_Normal means you leave everything as it is and nothing ever changes. If you don't like that, you've got to do things that _aren't_ normal._"

—Seiichi Kirima in _Boogiepop and Others _by Kohei Kadono

* * *

"Aston! You're not talking much," Babylon Angel said to me, poking my shoulder.

It hurt, but I didn't say anything. Since yesterday, when I fought the prince and his book-reader, everything in my body ached. But the pain was ebbing finally. "I'm just looking at the stars," I said, although I really wasn't taking in my surroundings.

Apparently Babylon Angel had brought me out to look at the sky, a shimmering tapestry of stars, which were a site I'd never see in the suburbs. And what was apparent with Babylon Angel was the truth, so I figured.

"They're great, aren't they?" Babylon Angel asked. "Just think… In a week it'll be too light at this hour to see them. Any further north, and it'd be sunny out still. But you can see the _aurora borealis_ in the winter."

"It'd be freezing out here if it were wintertime!" I said, clutching the yellow raincoat Babylon Angel had given me, which covered my bloodied sleeve. I hadn't had a chance to change my clothing yet. "It's the start of summer and it's down to what, fifty?!"

Babylon Angel smiled at me, but said nothing. It wasn't dark enough out to obscure facial features completely.

"So, how did the interview with the half-demons go?" I asked Babylon Angel.

"Kind of boring," Babylon Angel said. "I learned a bit about heredity, and that's always good. Six little piggies!" he exclaimed, wiggling his own toes.

"What?" I asked, but he didn't respond to my question.

Instead, he said, "The little one asked to be manipulated. He said he wanted to forget Naoko Takamine. It took me a while to get something together that would totally suppress the conscious and unconscious… It's kind of sad that anyone would want to do that. So… mundane," he said, sighing.

We sat in silence for a while, staring up at the sky and the Milky Way sprawled before us. I felt incredibly bad about lying to Babylon Angel, and the nothingness made me think more and more on the subject. I just prayed he would say something so I wouldn't have to risk blurting it out.

"I missed this," Babylon Angel finally said, thank God. "The Ningenkai sky, I mean. It's nice in the Makai, too, but nothing like this. You think it'd be better in the magical world, but nope. Ningenkai has the Makai beat!"

"What was he like?" I asked almost impulsively. "Or she. Your old partner?"

"She. Her name was Yuka, and she was fifteen.I was fourteen. Only a year older than you!" he said, looking over at me. "You're taller than Yuka was, though. And I was taller than you."

"How tall?" I asked him.

"I was almost six feet when I was fourteen!" he said, clearly proud of himself. "I only grew about five inches after that, though…"

"Six five?! You were _tall_!"

He nodded and gave me the thumbs up. "That I was! And good looking. Not to mention well-dressed and charming in casual conversation!" he added jokingly as he nodded, grinning, and stroked his chin.

"Quite the lady-killer, weren't you?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, it'd be really cheesy if I weren't the bad guy," Babylon Angel responded.

"Quit saying that. Now back to Yuka. Were you in love with her?" I chided, patting his shoulder and grinning. "You can tell me."

"No, no! Yuka was _married_!" Babylon Angel said. "That wasn't weird at all back then… Her husband was a nice guy, too. So I couldn't even think about that. It's not like I would have fallen for her, anyways. She didn't like conversations much… She was my friend, that's it."

"Really?" I asked, still teasingly.

"Really really!" he said. "I sometimes think, though, that Yuka was in love with me, despite having a husband who she also loved." He paused. "But I'm probably just being presumptuous! She was a pretty happy girl, she kept things simple. But it was hard not to way back when. …Yuka tried not to let it show, but she was terrified of fighting.

"Despite this, we did pretty well," Babylon Angel continued. "We were in the top five!" He smiled. "But Yuka got sick with what I think was the flu, which was serious business 4,000 years ago," he said, "and couldn't read the spells off right because of congestion, so we lost… But I'll say anything to hide the fact that I couldn't win because I wasn't good enough."

Babylon Angel was silent for a while before speaking. "I wish I knew where her grave was," he said almost solemnly, "so I could pay my regards to an old friend…. But even her bones are dust now. Empires have risen and fallen in the time she's been dead.

"Aston," he said, leaning against my shoulder and gripping my arm, "Oh, Aston…"

"What? What's the matter?" I asked, ignoring the tiny jolt of pain this caused. "Something's wrong?"

Babylon Angel nodded against my arm. "Aston… th-there is… There's a big problem…" He swallowed, before whining, "I'm _old!_ I'm _so old!_

"Aw… I make the pyramids look _young_!" he said, letting out an exasperated gasp of air before pointing to himself and letting out a final "_Old!_"

"You know, you really had me worried," I said, sighing. I honestly had believed he had a serious problem. "Don't scare me like that!"

He smiled. "I won't! But being old is serious business, Aston. Even if you look thirty. Or ten, for that matter."

I leaned carefully backwards down onto the grass to stare at the sky, and a faint thump beside me indicated that Babylon Angel had collapsed onto his own back to join me. "Aston?"

"Huh?" I turned my head towards him. "What?"

He wasn't looking at me, but still at the sky. "You're thirteen. That means you've got your whole life ahead of you. Around age thirteen, most people at least begin to come to a realization with the world— which may or may not be a good thing, depending on how you look at it— and start thinking about what they really want to do with that whole life spread out in front of them. What do you want to do?"

I bit my lip and closed my eyes. I'd been asking myself this question for a good while, long before I'd turned thirteen. "What do I want to do…? Good question. I used to think I wanted to write. But I won't be able to do that."

"Why not?" Babylon Angel asked, turning his head towards me.

"For one thing, what would I write about?" I asked. "I mean, the greatest books are basically about four things: the way the world was, the way the world is, and the way the world could possibly be, depending on the actions of the people in it."

"And the fourth?" he asked me.

"The tendencies of people," I said. "I think it's harder to write something really good about that because the message needs to be especially poignant."

"I get it," Babylon Angel said, "Great books have to say something about people or society, regardless of the genre or setting."

I nodded, but since he was still looking up at the sky, I said, "Yes. Or rather they have to touch on a universal theme. Of course there are exceptions, but still…"

"A universal theme, huh? I like it! And you don't think you can do that?"

I looked up at the sky, too. "Well, not really. Not any time soon, at least. You see, I'm a normal girl from a normal household. This whole deal has been the first abnormal thing that's ever really happened to me. And so far, I haven't really learned anything about society or people in general."

"Haven't you learned about me?" Babylon Angel asked, pouting.

"You're not people in general," I said to Babylon Angel.

"And that is something I will indeed take as a compliment," he commented. "Why did you want to write, though?"

"Well, for starters, I like it," I said, "but mostly, it's because I want something I put onto paper to be read for years. How stupid and selfish does that sound? But really, it's so that long after I'm gone, people will remember me. I mean, why do we know the name of Homer if he lived in, what, 800 BC? Why do we know Aristotle? Shakespeare? Dickens? Wells? Why have we heard of Bradbury and Vonnegut? Why will we remember those two— and the rest— for years and years to come? Because they_ wrote_. They wrote things still read today. You remember people who write great works of literature, not a pop-fiction novelist who has their heyday with a few popular books. And as it is, I have nothing to write about," I said. "So I have to do something else until I grow up and have seen more of the world.

"I just can't stand the idea of fading away to obscurity once the people I know are gone! It's unbearable to think that in a thousand years, even my bones will have crumbled, and not even a trace of me will be left!"

"Like Yuka," Babylon Angel said in a surprisingly matter-of-fact tone.

I decided to just continue, not knowing how to react to this. "On the note of being remembered, I might want to be a politician. Run for Parliament or a local office to start it off, you know?" I continued.

"I've told you that you should go for it," Babylon Angel said. "Hey…Bradbury and Vonnegut? Those are American authors, right?"

"Yes," I said. "I rather like American literature. They are… …but… but everything would have to align perfectly for me to be a memorable leader— I'd have to run in the right time, say the right things, have the right views at the right time, run for the right offices on my climb up, and have an atmosphere to lead in which one could become great. Like a world war, you know. We're going to remember Winston Churchill for a good while. But no one wants that, especially not with nuclear weapons and all. I don't want to be some peacetime official who pushes to make the parks in London nicer. They're the ones everyone likes but no one remembers."

I paused, and let out a laugh. "I used to think about these things all the time," I said. "Childhood dreams, you know? But lately I had stopped."

"What? Why?" Babylon Angel asked. "Was it my fault?"

"No, things at home built up, and well… It was hard to think anything aside from critical thoughts about myself."

"Oh…" he said. "Well, now you're going to put your mind to becoming the Prime Minister, right? That's what you want in the long run, right?"

"That's not going to happen!" I laughed. "I don't get good enough grades to go on to a school that would look good enough to voters. That's a fact. I'm probably going to just end up getting married to a man that's nice enough to me and stay home raising the kids, who will either act like eunuchs or be brats, while he works for all the expected promotions. And I'll probably hate everything about it. I mean, it sounds stupid and selfish, but I can't help but think that I'm made for bigger things than just living an ordinary life."

"It's either miserable or great with you, Aston," Babylon Angel said, "which might not be too healthy. But I'll tell you this. You _will_ hate everything about it. Why? You're the same as me. After about seven hundred years of screwing around in the Makai, I decided I still wanted to be king, and I went into a long study session to learn how I could operate in Ningenkai unfettered. I managed to solely focus on my 'grand purpose' for more than 3,000 years. Without that 'grand purpose', I would have gone mad.

"You, Aston, will need a 'grand purpose' in life. You're going to need to do something big, or at least try to. You're not going to be content trying to find happiness in day to day life. You just won't," he said.

"Babylon Angel? I apologize for interrupting, and it might be irrelevant, but why do you want to be the King?" I asked him. I'd wanted to know for a while, and it seemed that now was my chance to ask.

"But that_ is_ relevant," Babylon Angel said. "More relevant than anything. It's simple, really. I don't want to fade away into obscurity either," Babylon Angel said. "I don't want to be some no-name demon that lived a relaxed life among friends and family before dying. Being lost to time does not fly well with me. I know it's selfish. I know it's stupid. But it's something I have to do, you know?"

He paused. "We can't just lay back and be regular people, happy with the way things are. We're _romantics_."

"Romantics?" I asked.

He nodded. "Romantic, in the sense I'm using it, isn't like getting a girl her favorite flowers, holding her hand on dates, remembering things important to her or thinking about her. That stuff isn't romantic in any definition— it's common courtesy."

"So this wouldn't be a romantic setting?" I asked, letting out a tiny laugh.

"Nope. Just pretty," Babylon Angel said.

"You really _are_ a lady-killer. So what do you mean by romantic?"

"When I say romantic," he answered, "I mean quixotic, chasing our windmills. Whatever those windmills, those dreams, are, we have to follow them to even begin to find a measure of satisfaction within ourselves, whether those dreams are honorable or malicious." He let out a warm chuckle. "Romantics could be idiots with dreams of being legends, like us, people with grand goals, or they could just be people who pursue what they honestly want to do in everyday life by taking risks. …but I'll be talking about the grand-scale crazies like us, for the most part.

"Aston, did you know that most people push away all types of romantics?" he asked abruptly. "I read it in a book, and after thinking about it, I decided it was too true."

"Really?" I asked. "Isn't romance something desirable?"

"For characters in stories, yes," Babylon Angel said. "But in reality, not many people are willing to risk it with dreamers. Especially in a spouse— most people want and need nothing more than someone stable that will always be there to support them. Romantics like us will throw it all into the wind if something doesn't sit well with our sense of self or propriety, no matter how far we've made it down the path we've taken."

"That makes sense," I replied. "Perfectly."

"But… romantics— the type we are, at least— generally have a need to be remembered or leave a mark," Babylon Angel said. "We have a need to at least strive to shape the world, and the most romantic of us, like you and me, think on the scale of thousands of years."

He paused, and resumed in an almost depressed tone. "Another thing about people like us is that we'll never be truly happy. The things we want are too big. It takes a different person to be happy with every day things, and I'm not saying that one's better than the other. …in a way, I sort of envy anyone who can love life only on the little things."

"You seem happy enough," I said.

He chuckled, snapping out of it. "I'm actually pretty happy, all because I like myself. That's because, no matter how corny it sounds, I'm following my dream! If I died tomorrow, I could smile as I passed and say, 'Hey, I tried!'," he said. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't. I think you'll be like that once you grow up a little. But where was I? Oh, yeah…

"Although others may come to fill the positions when necessity calls and sometimes they never get up and do it, romantics _need_ to be either heroes or villains. And the world need both heroes and villains to go on," he said.

"We need both? I can see that. Without the villains, there are no heroes. And without the heroes…" I didn't finish because I remembered that Babylon Angel considered himself to be a villain.

"The villains, like me, would mess everything up," Babylon Angel said. "It's hard to insult me, so you can say whatever you'd like, so don't worry.

"There's a third category of people, also," Babylon Angel continued. "The 'normal' people. At the end of the day, they've done nothing. They're not heroes or villains, although it's often that parts of a normal person's mind become villainous and threaten to destroy them. But the normal people believe that they aren't cut out to be heroes, that they can't stand up to the villains that appear in their life, so they wait for their heroes. But in everyday situations, it's up to them to be their own hero, because quite often, parts of them are their own villain."

"Could you explain to me more about your 'villains', here?" I asked.

Babylon Angel nodded. "A villain, in my opinion, is anything that has antagonistic tendencies. A villain could be a sickness. A villain can be a person's blinding fears. A villain could be another person who acts on their selfish desires with little or no concern for others. I," he said, "am a comic-book grade super-villain. We're the ones you hear about. And the heroes who combat us… they're the ones you admire.

"They're the heroes you look up to, the ones you strive to be. They're the ones we write stories about," he said. "They're the ones that motivate people to be better, to move forward. They inspire the normal to stand up and become heroes themselves. They are the quintessential models of strength in the face of adversity, of justice." He paused. "And let me remind you of this," Babylon Angel said in a cool tone with almost a cutting edge to it, "they'd be _nothing_ without the villains to rise up against."

"They'd be normal." He let out a laugh. "Just imagine, Aston," he said, "a world without villains, ranging from super-villains like me to our own doubts and regrets. Nothing to combat, nothing to better yourself in the face of, nothing to overcome. No heroes. It'd be called 'perfect', in theory, I think. It'd be so utterly boring, so utterly disgusting! What sort of _hell_ would the 'perfect' world be?! Oh, and imagine the people, Aston! There'd be no need for intelligence… how absolutely _stupid_ they would be! Both humans and demons develop and learn through hardship, you know. Every advancement has been made to combat the adversity that man—or demon—kind has faced.

"No hardship, nothing to learn! And I'm just laughing thinking about some of the so-called 'pros' of a 'perfect' world!

"There's nothing beautiful about people—and by that I mean both humans and demons— getting along and cooperating in a world where there's nothing to inhibit that cooperation. What's beautiful is people showing kindness when there's every reason not to, when there's every reason to be selfish.

"The truly beautiful rises from the truly ugly, covered in soot and dirt to shake off. At least that's what I think. And the villains, the ones like me, we create the truly ugly. Thank God for evil!" he whooped, laughing.

I didn't answer.

"Okay, maybe that was a little creepy, but I've had lots of time to think about this stuff," Babylon Angel said in a rather abrupt and curt manner, sitting up. "…Aston, when this whole thing is all said and done, could you do me a favor?"

I pulled myself up into a sitting position too, straining my muscles. "It would depend on what it is," I said.

"I want you to be a hero," he told me.

"A… a hero?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yee-up, a hero. And I want you to save the world, if you will, eventually. How's that for romantic?" He winked. "From what? I don't know. But you'll find it. …But before you save the world, I want you to save 'normal' people from the more common villains inside them, somehow. Help them get to a point where they can become their own heroes if they so choose. I know that won't keep you happy for a long time, but it's a really important stepping stone."

"I… I get it," I said, although I figured I could never do that, let alone something as crazy as 'save the world'. Sure, I'd spoken of being famous, but it was just a stupid dream. "Yes, I will." Another lie, I thought.

We sat without saying a word for a good while, until I found myself laughing.

"Aston? What's so funny?" Babylon Angel asked me. "I want to hear!"

"What you said before this trailed too far off…" Aston said. "That people come to a realization with the world. If we keep talking like this about heroes and villains and being remembered, we'll never get the facts about it straight!"

"As I said," Babylon Angel replied, flashing me a little smile, "that may or may not be a good thing!

"…but Aston," he said to me, his voice suddenly solemn. "When you're ready to become a hero, I want you to keep something in mind."

"Huh? What would that be?" I asked, blinking at him.

Babylon Angel looked down and shut his eyes halfway, his smile broadening and becoming softer. "No matter what, the most important person a hero has to save is themselves."

* * *

Notice that Mallory's thoughts are rather transgender-ed. XD She's just a bit of a tomboy, that's all. …and a sociopath. But hey, we can't all be perfect.

…Sawao is such an _idiot_. If it isn't obvious, he's head-over heels for Mallory. And whoever said that turning into a clingy idiot was a good thing? …oh, yeah, Stephanie Meyer did. Well, it isn't. He'll come to, eventually, don't worry.


	13. For Your Information

**March of the God**

**Chapter 13: For Your Information**

Meet more minor villains. You won't see these two again until they fight. I'm just making a lame attempt to develop Malachi a bit more— he's a minor villain, but a big minor villain. : D

Does anyone even read this anymore?!

Disclaimer: JOIN THE CULT OF SNUGGIE! All proceeds from the sale of blankets with sleeves go towards the 'Help TightropeDancing Buy the Rights to Konjiki no Gash Bell Off of Makoto Raiku' Fund. …dude, just thinking about Snuggies makes me laugh.

* * *

"Y'look like a raccoon," said a brunette in her mid twenties to the demon. She smoothed her miniskirt with the hand that wasn't holding her high-heels. The woman's partner, a girl of about fifteen with bushy honey blonde hair and large hoop earrings, smiled sheepishly at nothing in particular.

"And you look like a hooker," Malachi replied, twirling his long blue hair around one of his fingers. "Next."

"Hey! I'm just talking about your facial markings or whatever they are!" The woman traced with her finger the crescent moon-shaped markings that bordered Malachi's eyes. "No need to get all worked up over it. God."

Before replying to the brunette Malachi shot a glance at his own human partner. _Eve?_ The demon asked himself. No, it began with a 'V'. _Veronica, Vanessa… Vieve._ …Vieve stared blankly at the two women, though her eyelids seemed heavy and drooping. Being manipulated, gazing passively was all she could do until battle called. Malachi wondered why he bothered checking on her so often; she could never do anything different or new.

"I dismissed you with one sentence," said Malachi, rolling his eyes as he leaned back against the wall. "How in heaven and hell is that getting worked up?"

"For someone who said they 'dismissed' and ignored someone," commented the other demon, still smiling sheepishly, "you sure talk a lot." Her large green eyes narrowed slightly, now seeming mismatched with the sweet, shy smile that occupied the lower portion of her face.

Malachi responded to her comment with a hostile glare. His controlled partner automatically reacted to his change in mood. Her eyes widened without affecting else about her facial expression. The book in her hand began to slightly radiate, illuminating the wall of the corridor at her side.

"See?" asked the demon, putting her finger on a black spade-shaped marking on her face, which had a deep olive complexion and winking. "Malachi, you're not very good at hiding how you feel." Her partner, however, had noted Vieve's action and removed a green book from her tote bag. The two demons paid no heed to their book-readers and went on speaking.

Malachi had been acquainted with the girl in the Makai, and he knew her name. He narrowed his eyes. "And you aren't very good at hiding the fact that you are a bratty, hormonal teenager, Linnett."

Linnett's smile faded slightly and her partner scowled. "You _are_ having a bad day, aren't you?" She looked at her partner, realizing that the woman had readied the spellbook for battle. "Don't worry, Tricia," teased Linnett, "Malachi's on the rag. Maybe he'll chill a bit if you let him use one of your pads…?"

Malachi crossed his arms and did not respond for a moment, briefly pausing their dialogue to speak. He figured if he said something incredibly obscene to either Linnett or her partner, one of the women would be so disgusted that they'd just leave as he'd wanted them to do for a while. "Isn't that charming? Listen here, you little cu—"

A hand grasped over Malachi's mouth, and the blue-haired mamono momentarily lost balance as a new weight suddenly added itself to his back. Linnett and her partner were suddenly staring at Malachi in shock (and fear in the case of the human), and the book in Vieve's hand had stopped glowing as the girl's frame relaxed.

Once over the initial shock of it, Malachi found the thing on his back to be so light that its added weight was inconsequential. However, he had no idea what it was, or, for that matter, why it had caused the other team and his partner's reaction. Upon hearing the 'thing' speak, however, he knew all too well what it was.

"Hey! That is _not_ the type of language you should be using around here," Babylon Angel, said, releasing Malachi's mouth and hopping down on to the stone floor. His bare little feet made no noise when they touched down, even to the sensitive ears of the demons. "Especially with ladies around."

The tall girl with long, reddish hair who stood with Babylon Angel smiled and rolled her grey eyes at an action or word Malachi did not understand. Her manipulated demon partner, a little girl, clutched her hand.

He smiled at Linnet and Tricia before continuing, this time directing his speech at them. "And you two _mi-i-ight_ want to watch what you say, too. Not all guys are gentlemen like Malachi… you're Malachi, right?..." Malachi nodded, biting his lower lip. Had Babylon Angel really lost recollection of his name? "…Malachi, here," Babylon Angel finished.

He reached up and patted Malachi on the back. "Go get something to eat," he told Linnett, who was nervously adjusting one of her large earrings, and her partner Tricia. "I just got more Frosted Flakes for the stock room!"

"C'mon, let's go, Trish," said the blonde mamono, tugging at her partner's upper arm as she walked away, trying to affect a relaxed stride.

Tricia nodded. "Yeah." She walked around Malachi, his partner and Babylon Angel as she trailed behind Linnett. Despite having her arm in her demon partner's grasp, she managed to avoid Babylon Angel with a wide berth.

Babylon Angel waved at the two and waited for a moment before turning to face Malachi, looking dead serious. "You! Take a lap!"

Malachi turned to run before Babylon Angel stopped him by grabbing his wrist. "I was joking, you know." He smiled at Malachi almost awkwardly.

"Oh… okay. I thought you were—"

Malachi was cut off by his partner yawning, an automatic response to her body's lack of sleep. He'd heard her do it before, but had never thought much of it.

"Serious?" asked Babylon Angel before abruptly changing the subject. "You might want to take your partner somewhere more comfortable where she can sleep. She's going to collapse if you keep her up too long."

Malachi nodded, looking over his partner. Although Vieve stood upright as the mind control administered on her commanded, her shoulders were slouched due to the weight of the book she carried. The girl automatically shifted her weight often of no violation of her own. Despite this, her knees seemed as if they were about to give at any moment. The bruise-colored skin under her eyes seemed thin, and her jaw hung slightly slack.

Malachi wondered how long it had actually been since she had slept. He knew she had nodded off against the walls a few times when Malachi himself had bored of wandering the subterranean passageways and had chosen to sit down for a rest.

Although he often checked over his partner, he hadn't considered giving her time to sleep. She'd eaten— Malachi had visited the stockpile of food himself and had made sure to give her permission to nourish herself on energy bars and bottled water.

"Down that tunnel and to the fifth left, there's a room with carpet and some pillows." Babylon Angel stuck his right arm out and pointed down a dimly lit corridor. "The floor slants slightly, so you _might_ want to be careful." He smiled and waved as Malachi turned. "And make sure she doesn't trip, either!"

Malachi grabbed one of Vieve's shoulders to support her as he quickly turned off down the hallway, passing another team. He tuned his pointed ears in on the conversation of Babylon Angel and his companion.

Babylon Angel's half-joking, half-serious voice was the first he heard."…this is the third time this week I've broken up an almost-fight! Maybe I should inspire more fear within their very souls to promote subordination? Hm?"

"I think you've done a terrific job of it already," the girl replied. "Did you see the human lady?"

"Well, she saw me put someone under control." _A great scare tactic,_ Malachi thought. He had turned another individual into a puppet right in front of her. It would explain the woman's fear of him. At times, Malachi wanted to hate Babylon Angel and his teasing, flippant manner, yet Malachi admired the other demon far too much to do that. Babylon Angel had set up the perfect environment to exercise total superiority.

"I had figured you did all of your 'interviews' in private."

"I do… but this previously un-manipulated man was causing trouble and picking fights, so what was I supposed to do? I lectured everyone there for a few minutes while I gathered the energy and then I put him under. …I didn't really like scaring the women in the crowd, though. Hmm… …Aston, do you think that if I'm just slightly more terror-invoking, people will get along better?"

Malachi heard laughter from the tall girl, although their dialogue was growing a little fainter as he walked along, intentionally very slowly. The girl, who was almost always with Babylon Angel, had been wearing a skirt. The previous time he had seen her, she'd been wearing jeans. Although Babylon Angel had gifted his army with a stockpile of all sorts of hygienic products, he'd never presented them with a change of clothing. Malachi knew Babylon Angel was playing favorites with the girl, and part of him envied her position.

"Huh…?! I'm sure I didn't say anything funny!" exclaimed Babylon Angel.

"Nothing, nothing…" Another laugh. "Did anyone ever tell you chivalry was dead?"

Their conversation regressed to a lighthearted chitchat. "Mmmmm-hm! I've read it all over… and assume it's pretty much true from my own observations. Why d'you ask?"

"Well, never was any statement so wrong!"

His response was laughing, and Malachi could feel what he identified, regrettably, as a pang of jealousy. "Aston, I told you that I really didn't like suck-ups! I'm not chivalrous at all, so don't try—!" Suddenly, Malachi's eavesdropping was interrupted by the noise of the team that had passed them in the hallway speaking. The mamono had tripped and the human was teasing him about it, much to the mamono's chagrin.

The blue-haired demon let out a rough sigh before picking up his pace and continuing down the hallways. It was best that he didn't listen in, anyhow.

* * *

Koko stood outside the house on the large, ornate stoop. The taxi had dropped her off maybe a quarter of an hour ago, but she hadn't yet knocked on the door of the residence, which was unexpectedly large.

Koko had deliberately gone at a slow, slow, slow pace walking up the long, winding driveway and stopped to observe every little thing (including the snail that had come up behind her and passed her by) that she came across in an attempt to stall for time, which she still needed. How was she going to explain to her best friend that she had been looking through her private emails in her inbox and had opted to make a trans-Atlantic flight because of something she'd found there?

Koko knew that she didn't have to come, didn't have to make the journey, didn't have to explain, but a voice in the corner of her mind kept telling her that the questions that had been haunting her for all of fifteen years would be answered if she bought the ticket, if she got on the plane. And, despite her common sense, she'd listened to it.

Now Koko was at the door, yet she had no idea what to say or expect once she knocked. She closed her eyes and took a few breaths, attempting to orchestrate some statement she could issue that would cause the least uproar. Koko had already come to the conclusion that there was no easy way to say what she had to say, but did it have to be_ this _hard?

In a moment of uncertain and what she felt was stupid courage, Koko pressed her finger to the button for the doorbell, deciding in a moment to wing it and improvise. She heard the noise echo inside the house a few times before the door opened.

The person in the doorway was not Sherry, a possibility Koko had thought of but, in her trepidation of having to explicate the reason for her unannounced arrival, had not lingered on.

"He—" The brunette Asian man in the doorway stared at her for a moment before widening his eyes. "Ah… hey… Aren't you…?"

* * *

"No. The goddamned bomb-assembly squad at Terrorist HQ packed it," Mallory said to the woman at the baggage check-in counter, rolling her eyes as she tapped her long nails on the counter. "What do you think? Of course we packed our own bag," she continued, standing on the tips of her toes in an attempt to lean over the desk. "This is supposed to be the express check-in for first class. Can't you hurry up?"

The woman, looking to be in her early forties, pulled our single, large bag over the weighing scale and on to the conveyor belt behind her with some difficulty.

"Sawao," Mallory growled at me, "why does it always take so damn long in these places?"

I shrugged. "Busy day?" I ventured.

She rolled her eyes. "Sure."

Due to Mal's propensity to wear metal accessories and the fact we could probably make better time at the airport once we got through security without carry-on luggage, we'd decided to check our bag as we entered the airport. We'd even procured a hideously bright floral print suitcase so that we'd see it from a mile away at the baggage claim.

The only thing we were bringing on the plane was a black Adidas duffle bag I carried, which contained my red book, my cell phone, its charger, a pair of earbuds; and a few paperback books, hand sanitizer and a pillow for Mallory. I hoped for Teo's sake that the in-flight movie was a good one. Of course, our bag contained our passports, including one we had freshly obtained for Teo. I removed them from our bag.

The lady— her name tag said 'Atsuyo'— seemed disgusted by and even afraid of Mallory. She hurriedly pressed a few buttons on her console and handed us our tickets. She'd already seen our identification, including a brand-new passport for Teo. Atsuyo had been a little surprised that Mal was from France (although she clearly was not Japanese). As for me, I was glad she wasn't a fan of my mother's. Some people would have given me their address and demanded to have an autograph mailed.

Although the woman didn't recognize me as the teen lovechild of Megumi Ooumi and the boy genius wonder, she did ask me if I had been in the newspaper recently, because she could swear that she'd heard my name and seen my picture before. I shrugged, and answered, "Sorta, yeah," before donning a pair of reflective aviators and receiving our tickets from her. I knew I'd have to take the glasses off in security, but I figured putting them on now would be okay.

As we walked away, Teo turned around and waved at the woman and smiled. "…Thank you for your time!" She returned the grin and waved back.

"Have a nice trip."

Mallory rolled her eyes, more irritable than usual. She was usually courteous to staff. Airports tended to put people in their worst moods. "For Christ's sakes, it's not like she's a waitress that can spit in our food."

Teo frowned in response to her comment, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Come on," Mallory said, "it's time to go through security." She grinned an alarmingly huge fake grin. "So hey, put on a happy face!" She coupled the sharp-toothed smile with a sardonic thumbs-up. Teo actually seemed a little frightened by this and shrank away a bit.

"Alright!" I cheered sarcastically, playing along as we ambled towards the line. "Airport security! My favorite thing on earth. Ugh." I hated airport security. Among other rather heinous transgressions, they'd totally dismantled my sister's portable DVD player once because it could've been a bomb. I wondered if anything was above their eagle-eyed suspicion.

"You overdid the sarcasm. …Well, we don't have much, so it shouldn't be_ that_ bad." Mallory notably lacked her usual spiked and studded accessories. She wasn't even wearing the typical knee-high platform boots, which would be a nightmare to take off and put back on in security. "Nonetheless, we have _the line_. Tch… I didn't think I'd be getting on another plane so soon."

With this we made our way towards the winding line leading up to the metal detectors.

"It looks longer than usual…" I groaned, tipping up my glasses slightly and looking down so I could rub one of my eyelids. "…You guys promise to stop me if I attempt to strangle myself with one of the dividers?" What a headline that'd be.

"Think about something good on the opposite side of the metal detectors." Mallory stretched. "It's how I pass the time."

Wasn't she the irritable one a few seconds ago? Mallory was synonymous to mood-swing. "Like what? Airport Chinese food? Those rows of seats by the gates that are next to impossible to fall asleep on?" Depending on the airline and where you sat, planes were worse. I tried not to think of it.

"Duty Free shopping," Mallory suggested. "And you and your tar-coated lungs can stand by the door of the smoker's lounge waiting for someone to open it. You can inhale that thick, _oh-so-delicious _cloud of secondhand smoke that floats out."

I laughed. "Come on, Mal, that's just stupid. I'm not _that_ addicted."

She rolled her eyes back at me as if to say, 'Yeah, right.'

Mal was right. I was that addicted. As sad as it was, her joking idea actually sounded rather appealing to me. I hadn't had a cigarette since early in the morning, and I was dying for a hit of nicotine or taste of tobacco.

For a while we shuffled forward in the line in silence.

"Sawao…?"

I turned around and looked down at the source of the voice. "Eh?" Teo was staring up at me. "What's up, kid?"

"When you talk to your mom's agent again, will you tell her thank you for me?" he asked. "It was really nice of her to get us all of those tickets for the planes and trains…" I couldn't remember being so polite and considerate as a child, and decided it was a characteristic reserved to Teo and only Teo, more than likely due to his 'princely upbringing'.

"I told her thanks already." Actually, I couldn't remember if I actually had thanked the woman or not, despite the fact that she had gone through the trouble of getting us tickets to what was probably the most obscure town in the world.

She'd booked us hotel rooms and set us up with a bush pilot that'd take us on the final leg of our journey to Taman Zlatan. Somehow, she'd even gotten Teo a 'legitimate' (I chose not to question it) Japanese passport on short notice from one of her millions of connections. All we had to do was snap a mug shot of him with a white background on my phone and send it to her along with his basic information. See? Legitimate.

"But don't worry, when I talk to her again, I'll tell her it for you." I flashed a smile at him, and he smiled back as if all was good.

The line we stood in crawled forward slowly, and the expression slowly washed off Teo's face. He looked at the floor a few times, shutting his large eyes every few moments. His trepidation was justified. We were, after all, going on a journey into the virtual unknown to save our friends— and my sister— from some sort of enigmatic evil mastermind. I tried not to think of the feelings that were causing the little mamono to be so jittery: nervousness, anxiety, fear, and etcetera. I had every reason to be grasped by the same emotions.

Instead, I focused on how unpleasant the airport was with its grey walls and metal support features, colors provided by advertisements hanging on the walls, the odd blue or brick-red tile spread sporadically on the white-tiled floor and the clothing of the surly crowds that churned about, all of it tinted yellow by my sunglasses.

It almost worked.

* * *

I uncrossed my legs and sat back in the chair. I tried to put on a smile, but couldn't. It wasn't that my best friend was unwelcome, yet her presence raised questions and I had a feeling I would end up giving her answers to things I had been hiding from her for the last fifteen years.

Kiyomaro, who had met Koko at the door, immediately and courteously had directed her to a small writing study just off the main foyer that had slightly dusty books about grammatical writing mechanics lining the wall and a few armchairs. He'd come straight to me about her arrival and led me to the room where she waited.

Koko looked at her lap, unable to make eye contact with me. "Sherry…" she began, but faltered. What didn't she want to tell me? I already surmised that Koko had been going through my personal information. I was a little angry with her about that, but I was willing to look past it for the time being.

"Koko. Why are you in America? Why are you _here_?" I asked, my voice harsher than I had intended it to be. I immediately began to apologize, but Koko cut me off.

"I did something bad. I did something very wrong…" she said, still staring down at her white jeans. "I read your email to find this address… you can figure out the rest, I guess. And I'm really sorry, Sherry… It's just… just..." Shortly after confirming my suspicion, she paused. "You wouldn't understand. And I wouldn't blame you, it sounds stupid."

"Just what? It's okay, Koko you can say it. Have I ever thought anything you told me was stupid?"

"Well… I felt that…" Koko quieted up again, the parts of her face that I could see turning a little red. She refused to make eye contact with me, her chocolate brown eyes obscured by her thick chestnut-colored bangs. "It really is sort of embarrassing."

"You didn't answer her question. Sherry asked 'why,' you gave her a 'how'." I had thought that Koko and I were the only ones in the small study. Apparently, I was wrong.

I stood up and whirled around. "Brago, I believe we were just getting to that. Please leave," I commanded, hoping he wasn't in the room for any reason other than curiosity and boredom.

"No, wait," Koko interrupted, "Brago's part of this, too… at least, I think he is. Sherry, could you let him stay? Please, I think it'd make things easier… maybe."

I rolled my eyes slightly. "If you think it will, I'm fine with it."

"Hn." Brago crossed his arms and sat down, but not before coming close to me and whispering harshly in my ear, "I wasn't planning on leaving in the first place."

I could feel my cheeks heat up as I glared at him where he sat leaning back in an armchair. "Thank you for the reminder, Brago," I said aloud, "but I was fully aware that you're a condescending _ass_ with no respect for others. Heavens forbid that I _ever_ forget." Koko blinked.

Brago rolled his eyes at me and exhaled through his nose. He shot me a grin that betrayed the presence of his pointed teeth for a fraction of a second before turning his face away from me.

I heaved a sigh and directed my attention back to Koko. "I apologize for that," I said.

She shook her head. "It's okay, Sherry, really. …but I really don't know how to begin…" She swallowed. "…All those years ago… I vanished, remember? I was taken somewhere by someone without leaving a single trace. When I woke up in the hospital bed, I couldn't remember anything at all. I only had a… a…_ feeling _that you were the reason I was safe at home."

I closed my eyes and nodded. The conversation, though it had barely started, was going just as I had feared it would. "I remember you telling me that."

Koko was quiet for a while, as if she didn't know where to go from the point. She fidgeted a bit and smiled at me nervously. "This is going to be really awkward…" Koko cleared her throat. "Sherry, from the moment you introduced me to Brago, I always figured that he wasn't exactly normal, if you know what I mean."

I nodded and pursed my lips. A mildly amused 'hn' came from Brago's direction. It gave me a feeling this was entertainment for him. I sent him another sharp glare, but he wasn't looking at me.

Koko continued, "And of course, at first, I just discounted it as a weird taste in men on your part. I thought that for a really long while. Then, when I started practicing medicine as a full-fledged doctor, you decided to give me business by switching yourself and your daughter over to me."

"Like any friend would do," I said, deliberately avoiding the inevitable punch. Koko probably knew what I was trying to do.

Koko nodded and smiled. "Yeah… but… when I got Mallory's records from her old pediatrician… I noticed that her blood type was listed as 'Other', which of course, is unheard of, especially for someone as healthy as your daughter. A few years later, when I got Demi's, it was the same, of course, but I _decided_ long before that."

"Decided?" I adjusted my weight a little, preparing for the climax.

"I usually don't like jumping to conclusions, but the first thing that came to my mind was… was that her father, that Brago—"

"Wasn't human?" Brago asked, grinning. I exhaled.

Koko nodded, her eyes returning to her lap. "Mmm-hmm… And I have a feeling that the reason something… someone… _un-human_ is here is… somehow related to… to why I vanished. I bet I sound really crazy now, huh, Sherry?" She looked up for a moment at me, and then at Brago before looking down yet again."

"No… you don't," I replied. "Explaining this, no matter how true it is, is just as awkward." Especially, I thought, explaining it to someone in Koko's situation, who had been all too much a part of it yet was unable to remember anything. "There is another world, parallel to our own, called the Makai."

"Makai… D-demons…?" Koko asked, her voice wavering slightly. "Brago is a _demon_? L-l-looking at him, I guess it's not exactly s-surprising once you rule out 'goth'-slash-'emo', 'singer in a metal band' a-and 'cult member'…"

Brago made a slightly displeased noise and I had to stifle a giggle, despite the tense situation.

I cleared my throat. "Yes, demons. Called mamono."

Brago picked up once I finished. "Every thousand years, a battle ensues to determine the Makai's ruler. A hundred demons fight amongst each other here in Ningenkai._ Unfortunately_," here he stood up and shot a glance at me, to which I rolled my eyes, "we can't use our powers freely in this realm. We each had to depend on one certain human— in my case, _her_— to fight alongside us. To spare you the details, the last one standing becomes King. The war ended fifteen years ago."

"I'm guessing you didn't win," Koko said to him bluntly.

Brago, caught off-guard, shot her a withering glare. "What the hell makes you think that?!"

"You're living in Sherry's house," Koko replied, undaunted, "not some magic castle in demon-land. No offense or anything." She frowned.

Brago sat down and didn't respond. He clearly didn't find this amusing anymore. I had been aware some part of him somewhat resented coming in second to Gash, but for the sake of his dignity, Brago usually hid it quite well. His tiny outburst had been one of very, very few. I still felt, sometimes, that in the same failure, I had let him down. Which I had.

Koko pursed her lips before speaking again. "The gap in my memory...? What does it have to do with this?"

The issue I feared the most had surfaced. "Like me, you were selected to access a demon's power." I sidetracked a little. "Which was done through a spellbook that only you could read. When the book of any demon is burnt by an enemy, the demon is eliminated from the battle."

Koko nodded. "Mhmm?"

"The demon you were matched with was a disgusting, vile creature," I said, narrowing my eyes. Although it had been well over fifteen years since I had laid eyes on Zophise's grotesque face, I could feel an old hatred well up in the corner of my mind, the hatred that had consumed me for such a long time, so long ago. "It," for Zophise did not deserve gender-specific pronouns, "delighted in destroying the sacred, in hurting the weak and helpless, in ruining lives. It needed your cooperation to go through with such plans."

"Sherry, you know I'd _never_…"

I nodded to her. "You refused to assist it, so it invaded your mind, your most private sanctuary, and gave you a new, false personality— one similar to its own twisted persona. One that would willingly cooperate with its disturbed plans and do things that you personally could never imagine," I hissed, before I realized, with trepidation, that I was allowing my own anger over a situation long, long resolved to do exactly what I had feared doing from the start— frighten Koko.

Her eyes were squeezed shut and her shoulders were tensed. "…y-you were its victim," I said, calming myself, "and I spent a long time trying to find you and save you." I stood, walked towards her and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"And you did," Koko said. I could feel her shaking for a brief moment before she took a breath and calmed herself down. Even afterwards, she still fidgeted slightly.

"…you have mostly Brago to thank for it…" I said quietly. "He was the one that made Zophise— that was its name— erase your memory of the time you spent under its control. And… I could have never hoped to rescue you without him."

Koko looked at him and the back at me before staring at the carpet. She understood immediately. "Because… because you knew I wouldn't be able to handle the memories of doing the things I was forced to do…?"

"I never wanted y-you to know."

"…I'm sorry," she whispered, sniffling a little. "I… I had no idea…"

"…It's okay. It really is."

A few moments passed in silence before Koko wrapped her arms around me and gave me a hug. "I know I've said it before… but thank you, Sherry."

I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her back. "A-are you going to… to cry?" I asked, feeling as if we were both children again.

"N-naw, I'll be fine," Koko said, giving me a final squeeze before releasing me. She forced a little smile, and I returned it. "Oh, and thanks, too, Brago," she added almost as a second thought, albeit sweetly.

He shrugged his shoulders and let out a quiet 'hn'.

Koko changed the subject. "So, Sherry… why are you here…? F-from that email, I assume it's about the disappearances that have been on the news… I wasn't really paying attention until the girl vanished locally." She paused. "Are all the people here related to the… the mamono battle?" She was still a little shaky, but she was taking it very, very well. "If it's okay with you, I'd be more than willing to help out, if I could."

I nodded and smiled a real smile. "Of course it would be okay. And yes… from the information we've gathered, we believe the abductor is a demon. Kiyomaro— he was the man that answered the door— would be able to explain the situation in detail much better than I could hope to. He'd be in the library. I'll show you there if you step out and give me a moment." I needed to spend just a few seconds more composing myself.

"Just a moment, okay?" Koko returned the smile and left the room. She probably needed a few seconds to herself, anyhow, I thought.

As soon as she closed the door, I collapsed with a massive sigh into the chair I had been sitting in earlier. I couldn't decide if it'd gone well or not.

"I hope you don't intend to make me sit through anything like that ever again," Brago said as he leaned against the woodwork in the corner of the room. I was unaware of when he had left his seat to venture there.

I gave him another dirty look as I slumped in the armchair. "You were the one that chose to sit in."

"Tch. I didn't expect all that touchy bullshit," Brago responded, wrinkling his nose.

I stood and ran my hand across my dress to work the wrinkles out. "That's your problem, then. Before you intrude on a private conference, perhaps you should consider what it might entail." In all honesty, Brago had been relatively well-behaved towards Koko, who had just received some rather heavy and disturbing information. To be even more honest about it, Brago actually acted acceptably in most situations— although occasionally, his old streaks of temper and impatience did show through as it just had.

Towards me, however, he still insisted on being somewhat of a jerk almost constantly. "Hmph." Brago crossed the room was in my personal space in less than a second.

Either because I was caught by surprise and jumped or because of a gentle push from my husband, I fell backwards and found myself in the chair again. Brago placed his hands high up on either armrest and leaned over me, looking down. "Maybe you should consider your audience." He lowered his head slightly as he spoke after quickly checking to make sure the door was shut. He avoided making physical contact with me in the presence of others like it was the plague.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?"

He didn't answer my question. Instead, Brago bent even further over so that the tip of his nose touched mine. He locked eyes with me. "It's been a while, Sherry."

I blinked a few times, but I couldn't tear my gaze from his. "A while? Since what?" I hadn't the faintest idea what he was talking about.

"Since I've see your eyes like that," he replied softly. It never sounded quite right when he spoke that way.

It still didn't click with me what he meant until he added, "Watch it. You still don't have any control over your emotions, do you? I've never seen someone so angry over a situation they resolved _favorably_."

"It doesn't matter at all anymore, now does it?" I asked him. "It doesn't matter at all."

"As I said, watch it." Brago turned to face the window and stared out at the lawn. "She_ is_ waiting for you out there, you know."

* * *

Still laughing about the Snuggies.

Zophise is an it, man. He… she… it… she… it is growing a Clear-fro under the hat. : O

Review, s'il vous plaît!


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